


As the Story Develops

by alterocentrist



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternate Universe - Politics, Angst, F/F, Friendship, Romance, Workplace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 81,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alterocentrist/pseuds/alterocentrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the last decade, Callie Torres's career skyrocketed from Senior White House Correspondent to co-anchor of HANCA's highest rating primetime news show. What happens when a familiar face from ten years ago gets too close for comfort? Grey's Anatomy newsroom AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New EP

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a giant fan of the The Newsroom, and I enjoy the relationships between the characters on Grey's Anatomy, professional, platonic and romantic. So I thought, why not put the two together? Posted concurrently on FanFiction.Net

**Monday, 8.00AM**

It was eight in the morning in New York City. Many people were already awake before then. They were out on the streets in swarms. They were descending underground, out of sight, into subway stations. They were buying their morning coffee. They were reading the newspaper. They were settling into their bus seats, putting their earphones in.

It was eight in the morning in New York City, and Callie Torres was just waking up. She willed herself to get out of her king-sized bed - which was, admittedly, far too big - and get into exercise clothing. She opened her bedroom door and inhaled the scent of coffee wafting over from the kitchen. That automated coffee maker was a great investment. Grabbing an apple and filling her travel mug with coffee, she headed out the doorway, across the hall to her neighbor - and unfortunately for her, colleague - Mark Sloan's apartment.

"Sloan!" She banged on the door. "Want to come to the gym with me?"

It took a good minute before she heard the sound of locks clicking. The door swung open, revealing a tall, muscular man with curly salt and pepper hair. His impressive physique was highlighted by the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of striped blue boxers. "Morning, Torres," he drawled, gray-blue eyes glinting. "I'm afraid you caught me a bad at time."

"You've got a woman in there, haven't you?" Callie demanded.

Mark waved her off. "Oh, come on, keep your voice down. She's still sleeping."

"Mark!" Callie exhaled frustratedly. "You told me you'd come to the gym with me."

"I know that, but," Mark lowered his voice, "I already did my workout, if you know what I mean."

Callie rolled her eyes and walked towards the elevators. "I'll see you at work?"

"Aren't we sharing a cab?"

She jabbed the down button before whirling around. "Yeah, but first of all, you're disgusting. Second of all, you're a terrible friend. And third of all, you're disgusting," she enumerated. "So yes, we will be sharing a cab, but we will not be talking, nor will we be looking at each other. Because you're a horrible friend." The elevator arrived and she stepped inside.

"Callie! It's just for today!" Mark called after her.

* * *

**11.00AM**

Richard Webber stared amusedly at the restless blonde sitting across from him. "I'm not one to take punctuality for granted, but you're awfully early," he told her. "You're aware that your work day doesn't start until midday, right?"

"I'm just…" the blonde's eyes shifted towards the ceiling, before returning to meet Webber's, "excited. I can't wait to get started."

"Aren't you jetlagged?"

"I don't get jetlagged."

Webber scoffed. "Arizona."

"Maybe just a little bit," Arizona said. "When am I meeting Derek?"

"At midday, with the rest of the team, like we discussed," Webber said.

"Do I get a chance to talk to him alone? I'd like to talk to him about my vision for the show."

"I'm sure you will get a chance to do that." Webber was astonished at her enthusiasm. "In the meantime, why don't I get my secretary to get you some coffee and watch TV, make yourself comfortable, here? I have a meeting with the breakfast team that I'm already late for. I'll come back before twelve to take you to the newsroom myself."

"My staff shares a newsroom with eight o'clock, right?"

Webber nodded. "Well, you will have a smaller staff so it just makes sense that way. Also, I like the two teams working in the same environment. The two programs both emerge having a greater sense of purpose that way," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Just asking." Arizona shrugged. "You should go to your meeting."

"I will." He stood up and straightened his suit jacket. "Do you want anything?"

Arizona looked more uncomfortable than excited for the first time since she arrived that morning. "Can you ask your secretary to send some donuts and a bottle of the pulpiest orange juice?"

"Donuts," Webber repeated.

"Chocolate with rainbow sprinkles. A half dozen."

"Seriously?" When the blonde's face remained deadpan, he sighed and walked out of the room. "Patricia," he addressed his secretary. "Can you please send up a half dozen chocolate rainbow donuts and the pulpiest orange juice some intern can find up to Ms Robbins as soon as you can?"

* * *

**1.00PM**

Owen Hunt watched everyone assume their seats in the conference room from his place at the head of the long table. Teddy, his senior producer, was already on his right, tapping keys on her laptop. When everyone was seated quietly, Owen cleared his throat. "Morning everyone," he said. "What have you got for me?"

"I'm sharing you the document with the rundown for the breakfast bulletin, the rundown for he midday bulletin and the proposed rundown for the five o'clock news hour," Teddy said. "You can look at the overlaps and see what's worth tackling."

The tablet on Owen's lap beeped. He turned the screen on and opened the document. "Who thinks we need to cover more of the debt ceiling?" he asked the team.

One of the APs, Meredith Grey, raised her pen. "We already have an economics professor for NYU on call if we decide to include it in tonight's rundown."

Owen wasn't convinced. Callie and Mark, the anchors, walked in the room. "Just in time, you two!" he said, as they sat in chairs next to him.

"Settle something for me: do you think we're spending too much time talking about the debt ceiling?"

"Isn't it either that or the launch of  _Grand Theft Auto XV_  tomorrow morning?" Mark asked.

Shane Ross, a recently promoted AP, spoke up from the end of the table. "It's five, actually."

Mark frowned. "Excuse me?"

"It's the fifth  _Grand Theft Auto_ , not the fifteenth."

"Oh, whoops," Mark said good-naturedly. "Don't tell anyone about that. I take pride in being current."

"Moving on," Owen said. "Callie? Debt ceiling or what?"

"I think we should devote the A block to Syria," she replied.

Owen clapped. He and Teddy shared a smile. "Now we're talking. What kind of coverage are we thinking about?"

"Well, Obama and Putin have reached a deal regarding chemical weapons in Syria, and that was over the weekend so every other network will be talking about that, and so should we," Callie said. "We'll need an international relations expert, a chemical weapons expert and anything that's coming out from the White House about it. We'll also need some footage."

"I'm sure we'll be able to pull some from the wires. Teddy, get in touch with your army contacts. April, get in touch with the first foreign policy expert available," Owen said. "That's the A block."

"And then debt ceiling at the top of B?" Meredith offered hopefully. "Also, the budget that Obama's trying to pass through Congress, too."

"How important is that, really?"

"Potentially very important. The GOP is threatening to make good on their promise to shut down the government. Last time that happened was seventeen years ago, and it wasn't pretty." Meredith pointed at the woman sitting at the back of the room. "Bailey, isn't your show thinking of covering it? How's that going for you?"

"Derek wants to but I don't think it'll be until Robert leaves," Bailey replied.

Teddy leaned forward, eager to catch the gossip. "When is Robert leaving?" Bailey's EP had just accepted a post at CBS News. "And have you found a replacement?"

"Webber and Derek have found one. Derek's meeting with her now," Bailey told her.

"A  _her_!" Mark exclaimed. "At least this one won't offend your feminist sensibilities, Bailey."

Bailey scowled and crossed her arms. "I feel like she'll offend my sensibilities, period. I met her before she went in to have her private chat with Derek. She looks and sounds like a hyperactive college freshman."

"Okay, let's get back on track, please," Owen cut in. "I'm sure we'll all have the chance to meet nine o'clock's new EP later. Do you think we should follow up on what happened with the US consulate in Herat?"

* * *

"Derek, I'm going to need you to forget everything you know about doing this show, because it won't be the show people will be tuning into their TV in two weeks," Arizona told him. "If you've got a list of stories you intend to follow, I'd like to see it so I can gut about three-fourths of it."

"Why's that?"

Arizona took a deep breath. " _America in Focus_  has the potential to be a great current affairs programme, but it's not. It's currently a soft news magazine masquerading as a current affairs programme."

"I didn't hire you to tell me that I'm doing a bad show, Arizona." Derek Shepherd was mildly irritated. Maybe it was just his journalistic ego, because he was well aware that Arizona pulled no punches, but he was suddenly dreading the beginning of her tenure as her EP.

"No, you hired me to make your show better," Arizona reasoned calmly. "And it's not your own fault that you're just presenting a rehash of  _60 Minutes_  right now. Besides, I'm not saying that it's a bad show, I'm just saying that you need the right producer. That's where I come in."

"Oh really?"

"Stark's too old school. He doesn't know what to do with someone like you."

Derek scowled. "What do you mean, someone like me?"

"New England old money WASP, prep school, Ivy League. Your first gig was as a BBC reporter, and you're not even British. You're not very likable to the common American," she responded matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," he muttered sarcastically.

Arizona was having none of it. "Stark has been coddling you, Derek. His transfer to CBS will only do your show wonders. It's time to revamp  _America in Focus_. No more human interest stories about some average joe unable to pay his health insurance. We're going to do policy stories with a human focus."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"The former makes the audience want to feel sorry for these unfortunate people," Arizona said. "The latter shows how the government is failing these people, and why they shouldn't be. We're going to talk about how the federal government's inability to protect the health of its workers is affecting the average joe, and if it's affecting the average joe, who the hell knows who else it affects?"

Derek considered it. "I feel like this is seriously going back on what JFK said. 'Don't ask what your country can do for you-'"

"'Ask what you can do for your country,'" Arizona finished for him. "Well, that's bullshit. Most Americans work hard every day to keep this country going and wouldn't it be nice to get some appreciation from their government?"

"You just called JFK bullshit."

Arizona waved him off. "I actually don't give a damn about his New England WASP, prep school, Ivy League ass, but I care about yours, and I care about not making it look uncaring and out of touch."

"The Kennedys are Catholic."

"I honestly couldn't care less!"

"You're not my EP yet, you know," Derek said. "For the next two weeks you have to put up with Robert deciding my rundown, and you not being able to do anything about it."

"I can pull strings. You wanna talk about gun control? Voter ID? The government shutting down in two weeks?" Arizona asked him. "I'll tell the president of HANCA to tell Stark to do it."

Derek shook his head. "I already asked Webber to do that last week, but Robert vetoed. Right now, he's arranging for HANCA affiliates in Denver to get us some interviews for what's going on with the flooding," he told her. "He plans for it to take up the A block and half of the B, and he's planning to devote the whole week to flood stories."

"You better be joking." Arizona's voice was low and unbelieving.

Derek laughed mirthlessly. "I wish I was."

* * *

**3:00PM**

Arizona emerged from her first rundown meeting. She hadn't worked with Robert Stark before, but she noticed his reputation for being safe and conservative with his journalism. The senior producer, Miranda Bailey, seemed to struggle to warm up to her, while the APs looked excited - if not impressed - by her presence.

Webber caught her coming out of the conference room. "Hey, what do you think of your new team?"

She shrugged pleasantly. "They look like a capable bunch, that's for sure. And I had a good talk with Derek just before the meeting about how I'm shifting the direction of the show," she was going to say some more, but Webber draped his arm lightly around her shoulder and steered her to the middle of the control room.

"I'll hear it later on, but let's introduce you to your friendly neighbours at eight o'clock first, shall we? Everyone!" The people working in the newsroom looked up expectantly. "I'd like to introduce to all of you, Arizona Robbins. She will be  _America in Focus_ 's new EP, taking over for Robert in two weeks. Please be nice to her, she hasn't lived in the States in ten years."

Arizona gave a little wave. "Hey, everyone," she said. "I'm looking forward to starting."

"Looks like I was just in time for the introductions!" A tall, thin woman with long, dark blonde hair approached her. "Welcome aboard to HANCA. Do you remember me?"

She did look familiar. "Let me guess…"

The woman smiled. "Baghdad, 2005. I was embedded with the army?"

"Altman!" Arizona exclaimed, remembering. "Teddy Altman."

"Yeah! How's your big brother?" Teddy looked at Webber and explained. "Arizona's brother was in the unit Owen and I were embedded with in Baghdad, and eventually Afghanistan. Kept bragging about his journalist sister from the BBC. Then Arizona comes to Baghdad with a team to cover the election for half a week."

"Tim's great," Arizona replied. "He's having fun with his job at the Pentagon."

"That's awesome!" Teddy said. "Have you met Owen yet?" Her eyes scanned the room.

"I think Owen's working in his office," Webber supplied.

"Owen!" Teddy yelled out. Several APs jumped in their seats.

Owen walked briskly out of his office doors, looking momentarily confused until his eyes landed on Arizona. "Hey, it's little Robbins!" he said brightly. "Long time, huh?" He shook Arizona's hand.

"Eight years, last I counted," Arizona deadpanned.

"And we finally get to work with you. Let's see if Tim's bragging has some substance."

* * *

Callie was doing her own research on the Syria affair when she heard Webber's voice booming outside. Teddy's voice joined his soon after, and then finally, Owen's rushing footsteps out of his office made her suspicious. She got to her feet. There has to be a breaking news alert or something.

When she stepped into the bullpen, she was surprised to see everyone going calmly about her business, with the exception of Webber, Teddy, Owen and a woman who was obscured from her sight by Owen's body. She was curious to see who it was, until she heard her laugh. She'd know that laugh anywhere. "Arizona?" she blurted out.

Owen and Teddy turned to look at her, and Callie's guess was confirmed. Her hair was shorter than when she last saw her ten years ago, but it was still the same shade of blonde. She looked a little older, obviously, but her sapphire-coloured eyes still shined like they did. "Calliope," she said affectionately, her face breaking into that same smile.

Callie was tempted to revert back to ten years ago and melt on the spot at the sound of her name being spoken that way. But then she caught herself. "Arizona. What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new EP for _America in Focus_."

"Oh." Callie could feel the colour draining from her face.

"You two know each other? That's great!" Webber was delighted. "Your transition into this newsroom will be easier than I initially thought."

"We met when we were both working in DC. It was a long time ago," Callie said. We watched Arizona break eye contact with her. Half the confidence she had seemed to have disappeared.

"Hey, Callie, if it's all right with you, Arizona's coming to our final rundown meeting and is going to be in the control room with us tonight, just to observe," Owen told her. He, too, looked ridiculously cheerful.

"Yeah, yeah, that's fine." Callie jerked her thumb at her office door. "I was actually busy, I just wanted to know what was going on. But yeah, observe, by all means."

"Okay, we won't keep you," Owen said.

"Okay. I'll talk to you guys later." Callie made her way inside her office and made sure that the door was closed. She sat down at her desk and buried her face in her hands. Arizona Robbins had not only returned, but now, she was on her turf. Yet it has already started to feel less like that.

* * *

Webber had to take a call in his office, while Teddy called the eight o'clock staff for their next rundown meeting, while Owen met with graphics. Arizona was left wandering aimlessly around the newsroom, introducing herself to the small team that was left behind. The computer screen of a surly, dark-haired man caught her attention. She leaned forward to look over his shoulder. "Hey, do you wanna email that to me?" She reached inside her blazer pocket to pull out a business card when she stumbled backwards.

A hand shot out to grip her by the wrist, steadying her. "Shit! I'm sorry," the man said. He checked that Arizona was perfectly balanced before he released her grip. "You just gave me a fright."

"I'm just looking at what you're reading. That's on the potential government shutdown, right?"

"It's not a potential shutdown," the man corrected. "The government is going to shut down."

Arizona stared at him. "So, it's not a question of if, but when?"

"Exactly that."

"Aren't you supposed to be doing something else right now?"

He hesitated, before nodding. "Yeah, but seriously, the Colorado story doesn't need a lot of work in the studio. We're just waiting for the package to get sent. I'd rather do this than twiddle my thumbs."

Arizona briefly glanced at the headline of the article he was reading. "What do you know?"

"That calling it a 'government shutdown' is a misnomer," he replied. "The services that are going to be shut down are non-essential services. That's museums, national parks, tourist activities around DC, but it's also..." he paused and bit his lip.

"Things like what?" Arizona prompted.

"Army base commissaries, domestic violence help services and the WIC programme."

"The WIC programme?" she repeated. "The Women, Infants and Children program? Are you sure about this?"

He shrugged. "That's just what I've read. It's not so much a government shutdown as a public service shutdown."

"What's your name?"

"Alex Karev. I'm an associate producer for  _America in Focus_."

Arizona shook his hand. "So I've gathered, Alex," she said. "Email these links to me. My email address is on the card - IT here has got to set me up with a work address, so yeah, that should do. Anyway, email these links to me, I'll dig around in my contacts and get back to you."

"Wait, I do get to produce this story, right? You're not going to lift it out my hands."

"I'm not that kind of EP, Alex. I'm too lazy for that. I'll find out some more stuff for you but it'll be entirely up to you afterwards. Do check in with me if you're not sure of something, though," Arizona said. "When the shutdown happens, whatever you come up with will be top of the A block."

"A block." Alex looked amazed. "Seriously?"

"Yup. Keep it on the down low and don't tell Stark, though. We don't want to get in trouble."

"Other people would just throw me under the bus."

"Alex." Arizona smiled. "I'm not that kind of EP." She tapped the business card on Alex's desk. "Email the stuff to me."

* * *

**5:00PM**

Mark entered Callie's office just in time to watch the five o'clock newshour with her. "Torres, you okay?" He had noticed that his best friend and co-anchor had looked dazed during their three-thirty rundown meeting.

Callie's eyes didn't leave the screen. "I'm not looking forward to the last rundown meeting."

Mark looked at her sympathetically. "Mondayitis?"

"No. Derek's new EP is sitting in." Callie sighed.

Mark sat on a chair by the window. "Arizona? Teddy told me about her. She sounded really excited. Apparently Webber managed to poach her from the BBC? I'm starting to think that man has too much power." He noticed that Callie's frown was deepening. "Oh, you're not a big fan."

"Bad vibe. Bailey doesn't feel too good about her, either."

"She won a Peabody." Mark said. "And was shortlisted for a Pulitzer."

Callie scoffed. "You know that's not the same as  _winning_  a Pulitzer."

"You're one to talk." Mark snorted. "You haven't even been shortlisted for a Pulitzer. The point is, she's clearly very good at her job and Webber believes that, Derek believes that. Teddy is over the moon to be working with her. I know she's a stranger in our newsroom but we have to learn how to trust her eventually."

"You don't understand, Mark." The finality in Callie's voice signified the end of the conversation, but Mark wasn't going to let it go.

"Wait, Teddy said Arizona worked for the DC bureau of the BBC." Mark stroked his chin, a new glint in his eye. "Did you two  _know_  each other?" He smiled mischievously.

"Mark.""No, Callie, seriously, I want to know the history you have with Arizona Robbins."

Callie folded her arms across her chest. "It's really none of your business, but we were professional rivals. We were on the Al Gore campaign bus and we just absolutely _loathed_  each other. Then we both ended up in DC afterwards. That's it, really."

"Really?" Mark's eyebrows shot up.

"Really." Callie's attention went back to the television. "I want to watch the news, so either you can stop gossiping about Arizona and stay here, or you can leave and find someone else to share crazy theories with."

* * *

**8:30PM**

"Callie," Owen said through the mouthpiece of his headset, "ask her to clarify the consequences of Congress not voting to raise the debt ceiling. In layman's terms. Tap your pen if you copy."

On the screen in the control room, Callie tapped her pen. "Professor Hall, can you tell us what the direct effects of not raising the debt ceiling is for the average American citizen?" she asked.

"Not raising the debt ceiling would effectively mean that the government may run out of money to settle its debts, and that has severe repercussions for us all," Professor Hall started. "For example, Social Security payments to senior citizens may need to stop, and so would people relying on Medicare and Medicaid. Interest rates will shoot up, making it harder for both the business owner and their employee to get loans from the bank."

"Pivot to the shutdown," Owen said.

"So, if the government shuts down, would we be in danger of hitting the debt ceiling?"

"Yes," Professor Hall replied. "And not only would we be faced with millions of Americans suddenly losing support from the government, but we'd also have somewhere around seven hundred to nine hundred thousand government employees would be put on unpaid furlough."

Owen turned around to look at Teddy. "Fact check," he mouthed.

Teddy nodded and got on it right away.

"It's true," Arizona spoke up. She was huddled in the corner of the control room, but her eyes were actively flitting around, taking everything in. "Give me a writing pad?" Teddy handed her one. She quickly scribbled something, ripped the sheet off and gave it to Owen. "Feed these figures to them."

Owen's eyes widened as he read what Arizona wrote. "Mark," on screen, the other anchor straightened up when Owen addressed him. "Bring this up: since Congress members are still getting paid, it's a public service shutdown, not a government one. Nod if you copy."

Mark nodded, then relayed the information Owen gave him. Professor Hall agreed, and expanded upon his statement.

"Nice one. Where did you get that from?" Owen asked Arizona. HIs hand was covering his mouthpiece.

"One of the nine o'clock's APs showed me some articles he found on it" she replied. "His name's Alex, make sure to thank him later."

"Duly noted." Owen continued to guide Callie and Mark through the interview with Professor Hall for the next few minutes. "Okay, we'll go to break in thirty seconds, wrap it up. Mark?"

"Well, that's all we have for tonight. Thank you for coming, professor."

The woman smiled graciously. "Thank you for having me."

"Pull Professor Hall out of the shot," Owen said.

Mark and Callie turned their chairs simultaneously towards another camera. "That was Professor Jasmine Hall from the City University of New York's economics department," Mark said. "After the break, we'll be following up with the situation in Colorado. Stay tuned."

* * *

**9.00PM**

After the eight o'clock ended, Arizona jogged over to the nine o'clock's control room. Derek was already behind the camera in the studio, fiddling with his tie and lapel mic one last time, while Stark was scrolling on his tablet to have a final check at the rundown. He looked up and smiled when he noticed Arizona's presence. "Great, you're here. Okay, guys," he addressed the control room, "let's show Arizona how we do it."

"Roll in," the technical director said.

The opening theme played, and Derek looked up at the camera, a half-smile on his face as he waited for his cue. "Good evening. I'm Derek Shepherd, and this is _America in Focus_. Tonight we bring to you several stories from the people affected in the flooding in Boulder, Colorado…"

* * *

**9:45PM**

"After the break, we'll be checking out what's going on outside of Gamestop downtown, where hundreds of people are camping out overnight, as they await the release of  _Grand Theft Auto V_." When the ad break started, Derek pushed back from the anchor's desk and sipped on some water.

"So, Arizona," Stark said, "Do you think this show is going to be manageable?"

"Definitely." Arizona nodded. She thought that  _America in Focus_  wasn't a badly produced show, it just had the wrong vision.

Alex ducked his head inside the control room. "Arizona? Can I talk to you out here for a sec?"

Done with Stark's showboating, Arizona obliged. She stepped outside. "What's the matter?"

"Owen came to thank me after his show," Alex said. "You told him I was the one who found all that stuff on the shutdown?"

Arizona nodded. "Yeah, I wasn't tattling on you or anything. He was just thankful to be able to acquire that information, and I was just making sure that your work gets recognised," she explained. She looked at Alex curiously. "Jesus, Alex, are you really not accustomed to being praised for your good work?"

Alex glanced over her shoulder at Stark. "It's not our culture over at the nine o'clock."

"Well, that's going to change in two weeks," Arizona said. "I'm not-"

"That kind of EP," Alex finished her sentence. "Yeah, you've told me."

Arizona put her hands on her hips. "Do you believe me?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose you haven't given me reason not to."

* * *

**10.15PM**

Callie walked down the empty hallway into the elevator. Most of her staff has left - Mark had said goodbye over half an hour ago, saying that he wanted to get some drinks - while she stayed behind. She didn't know why, exactly. While she occupied herself with doing additional research and reading the Facebook and Twitter feedback on tonight's show, all she could really think about was Arizona in the control room. Arizona running around the bullpen. Arizona working in the office two doors down from her. Arizona in the elevator - wait, hang on.

To Callie's shock, Arizona had just entered the elevator. Her hair was more dishevelled than it was this morning, but she looked happy. In the zone. "Hey," she said softly. "Good show tonight."

"You'll be producing a better one in no time." Callie couldn't help complimenting her.

The blonde looked more hesitant as she asked her next question. "How have you been?"

"Arizona, we're just colleagues now," Callie told her coldly. "Not friends."

Instead of backing off, Arizona kept on talking. "I'm sorry, I just can't help checking on how you are. I mean, I followed your career and all, thanks to the Internet. But you never answered any of my emails over the last ten years."

Callie sighed. "I didn't want to talk to you. I thought you would have gotten the hint."


	2. Shutdown's Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited about the prospects of this story. The next two chapters to be uploaded will be flashback chapters. I wrote them for two reasons: 1) people need to find out what actually happened between Callie and Arizona, 2) I wrote the first two chapters early into the government shutdown period so I decided to give it time for more real-life news to accumulate before I write about it again. In the spirit of honouring both Aaron Sorkin and Shonda Rhimes, I want it to be as much about journalism as it is about interpersonal relationships.
> 
> Current events that are mentioned in this story are all true, but the characters' involvement in them is merely well-researched fiction. If there is a demand for it, I will be writing a series of posts on my writing Tumblr wip-alterocentrist to clear things up and provide useful links.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Sunday, 8:00PM**

On the night before her first show as America in Focus's EP, Arizona booked out the largest private room at a Thai place on 2nd Avenue that she found online. She was throwing a dinner for the senior staff of both the eight and nine o'clock shows. Getting the reservation did not come easy as the restaurant was ridiculously popular, but she managed it in the end. It was all for free, too; Richard Webber let her charge it on the company credit card. Ever determined to impress, she even turned up fifteen minutes early.

Eight o'clock came around, and the only two people who have arrived on time were Webber and Alex Karev. The maitre d' approached her. "Ma'am, the room is ready for you. Would you and the two gentlemen like to go there now? We'll direct the rest of your guests there."

"Thank you," Arizona said gratefully. A waiter led them to the room. It suddenly looked way too big.

Webber pulled a seat out for her. "Don't worry. This is New York. They'll turn up."

"Were people unusually punctual in London, Arizona?" Alex asked jokingly.

"Nothing unusual about punctuality," she retorted. Arizona had taken a shine to the young man over the last two weeks. His thoroughness and sharpness with following the shutdown had impressed her. It was also a plus that he was the first one among the staff who stopped treating her like an intruder.

"Here are the others!" Webber announced. Bailey walked in, followed by Owen and Teddy.

"Arizona, hey!" Teddy said cheerfully. "Thanks for taking us out to dinner tonight. Great choice of restaurant."

"Teddy loves her Thai food," Owen chimed in.

"Hi Bailey," Arizona said. "How's your weekend been?"

"I was enjoying my short reprieve before someone else is cracking the whip on my show."

Arizona blinked. She wasn't sure what Bailey intended by that comment. But before she had time to ask, more people entered. The rest of her APs: Lexie, Cristina and Jo, who were joined by eight o'clock's APs, Meredith, who happened to be Lexie's sister, April, Shane, Stephanie, and Leah. "Hey!" she greeted them brightly. "Thanks for coming."

As they took their seats, Mark and Derek arrived together. "Hey, Arizona." Derek looked around the room. "This is a pretty cool place. I see you still know how to throw a party."

"Oh, parties! I want more of that if you're going to be staying on at HANCA, Robbins," Mark told her as he took his seat.

Bailey asked the question that Arizona had wanted to ask: "Sloan, where's Callie?"

"She said she isn't feeling well. She thought it would be better to stay at home tonight instead of leaving me to anchor on my lonesome tomorrow," Mark replied. He looked at Arizona. "She told us to enjoy ourselves, though."

Disappointed, Arizona sank back in her seat. "I'm sure we will."

* * *

**Monday, 12:30PM**

"I don't understand. Why are we meeting this early?" Cristina Yang muttered as she took a seat next to Alex in the conference room. "I haven't even had the chance to sort through the stories from the breakfast bulletin yet."

"Not to mention the midday bulletin hasn't even finished," Lexie Grey added.

Alex was unfazed. "Arizona just wants to talk to us, okay?"

"It's probably going to be some pep talk. I don't have time for this," Cristina grumbled. She stretched her arms out and laid her head on the conference table.

Bailey, who had nothing to say up to that point, said under her breath: "None of us do."

"Come on." Alex glared at her. "You didn't even like Robert. Are you gonna give her a chance?"

"Give who a chance?" Arizona walked in, weirdly, empty handed. EPs usually carried a legal pad and an electronic device on them. When she was greeted with silence, she moaned, "Let me in on some office gossip, will ya?"

"It was nothing," Bailey said, shaking her head. "You wanted to talk to us about something?"

* * *

Callie was walking back to her office after attending a meeting with a source from DC in Webber's private lounge when she heard Arizona's voice through the glass wall of the conference room. She looked at her watch. It was too early for them to be holding a rundown meeting. She couldn't help but stand outside the room to listen anyway, at an angle where she knew she was out of sight from everyone.

"... we're not just in this line of work to tell people what they need to know," Arizona was saying. "We're in this business to show the rest of the world what they're ignoring. We're journalists, right? Our job description seems simple. We're informers, educators, watchdogs. But we're also storytellers. And that's what I love most about this job. It's a  _privilege_  to help people tell their stories."

Callie had heard this all before, but she couldn't help smiling. Arizona did always give the best speeches. Apparently, some of her team members didn't think so; Bailey looked unimpressed and Cristina was rolling her eyes.

"Calliope."

The sound of her name made her jump. What she didn't notice was that Arizona had adjourned the meeting already. Instead of standing in front of everyone else in the conference room, Arizona was standing in front of her.

"Are you okay?" Arizona asked. Behind her, the rest of the team shuffled out to return to their desks. "You look lost, which is implausible. This has been your newsroom for years."

"Sorry, I just -" Callie shook her head, chuckling a little bit, "you were- you were saying your 'we are storytellers' speech."

Arizona frowned in confusion. "My 'we are storytellers' speech?"

"You know. The whole, 'we're not just journalists, we're storytellers' thing you have going on," Callie said. Arizona's blue eyes were locked on her, and she could feel herself blushing, and cursed her blood vessels for betraying her. "You've said that speech countless times in DC."

"It's because it's something that I believe in," Arizona said. "And you remember me saying that speech?"

"Are you kidding?" Callie managed to laugh, even if it was the last thing she wants to do around Arizona. "It was like your party trick. I guess some things never change."

Arizona's eyes were searching her face. "Indeed," she said softly.

* * *

Cristina was hanging around Meredith's desk when she saw Callie and Arizona having a conversation. "Hey Mer," she said. "Is something up with those two?" She gestured at them. "People don't look at each other like that unless they've slept with each other at least twice."

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

"I could only imagine. But look, they're like, staring at each other."

Meredith looked up. "Oh, get back to work," she said disapprovingly.

"No! I'm overwhelmed with curiosity and I just  _have_  to find out!"

"Cristina." Meredith hoped that the sharpness in her voice would bring her best friend back to earth. "The federal government is going to shut down indefinitely in less than twelve hours. You should go cover that instead of poking your nose in other people's businesses."

"I'm a journalist," Cristina said. "It's my job to poke my nose in other people's businesses."

"Nope." Alex was walking past them, smirking. "We're  _storytellers_ , remember?"

Meredith gave Cristina a questioning look. "The new EP said it in her pep talk," Cristina explained quickly, before turning her head to call out to Alex. "Screw you, evil spawn!"

"Goddamn." Meredith ran her fingers through her hair in exasperation. "I'm not gonna get any work done today, am I?"

Cristina shook her head. "No, you can go back to work," she said. "I'm going to do a quick Google search. If you wanna help me, you'll know where I am." She walked across the room to her desk, fingers flying across the keyboard even before she got in her seat.

Meredith looked at where Callie and Arizona were standing. Only the EP was left there, watching as the anchor disappeared behind her office door. She hated to admit it, but something was definitely going on.

* * *

**4:00PM**

The EP's office for _America in Focus_  had four television screens, arranged in rows of two. On all of them - HANCA, MSNBC, CNN and Fox - reports about Congress were playing. Arizona had to smile to herself. Her first show was going to be a lead up on the government shutdown. What a time to re-enter American media.

On the shelves by her office window were an assortment of photographs taken over the years. The closest to her was the most recent family photo, taken when she came home to Virginia for Christmas the year before. Her father and Timothy in similar pastel blue shirts and tan chinos, her mother and her in navy dresses. The second photograph was her team at the BBC in London, standing in front of Buckingham Palace. The third was a candid photograph of her talking to a cameraman while producing a story on the riots in Greece - the story that earned her team a spot on Pulitzer's shortlist. The fourth was taken in Baghdad: she was in a beige hiking shirt with the sleeves rolled up, standing arm in arm with her brother, Owen and Teddy. Owen and Teddy were wearing a similar outfit to hers, while Timothy was in his olive drab and combat pants. The fifth and last photo was of her and a group of young journalists in front of the New Hampshire's governor's mansion. They took the photo while waiting for Gore to emerge from his meeting with the governor. Next to her, an arm discreetly around her waist, was Callie.

They had been embeds on Al Gore's press bus, and when Bush was elected, their careers hung in the balance. Only embeds of the winning candidate were selected for the Press Corps, after all. Callie ended up being chosen as HANCA's junior correspondent in the White House Press Corps, while Arizona - then a stringer for PBS - applied at the BBC's DC bureau as an associate producer. She got the job. The other people in the photo with them weren't so lucky.

Her reverie was broken by Bailey. "Do you want to check over the copy tonight?" the woman asked her. She was holding a stapled bunch of papers out.

Arizona took them gratefully. "Yeah, thanks Bailey," she said. "How are you today?"

"Fine."

"That's good to hear. How did you find the dinner last night?"

"It was good," she replied abruptly, before turning to look at the door. "Can I go? I want to organise logistics with the DC bureau for that Georgetown professor that we're crossing over to tonight."

Arizona was taken aback. It had been two weeks and she was still failing to warm up to Bailey. "Well, all right then," she said. "Talk to me if you have any problems."

"Of course." Bailey turned on her heel and walked to the door.

Owen Hunt entered her office as Bailey left. "You busy?" he asked politely, before stepping inside.

"Just thinking about the shutdown. I do have a meeting with the control room guys in half an hour, though," Arizona said. "I was a college sophomore when the last one happened. Timmy was in the army already, on the base in Texas. He didn't get paid for two and a half weeks."

"We're fighting two wars and we're running the biggest military operation in the world," Owen said reassuringly. "They can't withhold pay for very long."

"Who knows what'll happen, with the Tea Party holding the House to ransom and all." John Boehner's face filled the screen on CNN and she rolled her eyes at it. "Anyway, can I help you with anything?"

Owen shook his head. "No, it's a bit stupid, but I was just checking in on you," he told her. "Bailey looks like she's giving you a hard time."

"Yeah, no, it's not stupid. I totally get that. And Bailey's not giving me a hard time. She's just a little bit standoffish because I'm the new girl, and I get that too."

"That _is_  Bailey giving you a hard time," Owen said. "She'll be nice to you in a few months."

"How long did it take for you?"

"Like, a year," Owen said. "But she was nicer to Teddy than she was to me."

"Speaking of Teddy…" She pointed at the framed photo of them on her shelf. "Check that out."

"Jesus, is that what I think it is?" Owen picked up the frame to look at it, laughing. "God, what was I thinking with that beard?" He looked at Arizona. "I swear, you were in Baghdad for a few days and our world was turned upside down."

"That's a euphemism for me almost getting you blown up."

"Yeah, pretty much." Owen laughed again. "I was surprised that Tim flipped out at us for getting you in danger, when you were the one who led us there. But then again, in his eyes you could do no wrong."

"We were all young and stupid then, no regrets," Arizona said, grinning at the memory. "How are you and Teddy anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

Arizona laughed. "Oh, don't play coy, Owen! You and her had a thing for each other in Baghdad!"

Owen cringed. " _We did not_! You were with us for four days! Seriously, where did you get that idea from?"

"Dude, I'm not obtuse," Arizona said. "And I can prove that I'm not the only one who noticed. Timothy couldn't stop talking about the ' _unresolved sexual tensio_ n' between the two of you when he came home on furlough for two weeks."

"Me and Tim or…?"

"You and Teddy, dumbass. So, what happened there?"

A half-laugh, half-sigh escaped Owen's mouth. He had his hands on his hips, preparing for a reply, when the door opened. "Owen! Shane told me you were in here," Teddy exclaimed. "I need you to look at something for me… what's going on?"

Obviously glad at the chance to change the subject, Owen showed Teddy the photograph. "Little Robbins has a record of our brush with death!" he declared.

Teddy stepped closer to him to look it. "Holy crap," she said. "That is a cute photo."

"I like to think we were safari explorers observing animals. And by animals, I mean my brother."

They laughed together. "So, Teddy, what did you want me for?" Owen asked the taller blonde.

"Oh, it's not urgent, just got some news from our guy on the hill in DC that we might want to include in the coverage for tonight," Teddy said. "I can see we're having a wee bit of a catch up over here."

"Well, it has been six years," Owen said. "I was just asking Arizona if she had anyone special in her life that made her come back Stateside."

Arizona was about to call Owen out on his lie, when Teddy jumped in, "Do you?"

"No, it was just a better offer."

"You worked at _the BBC_."

"Yeah, but I was never going to be an EP there. Webber and Derek lured me in here with the promise of producing the best current affairs news magazine on network television," Arizona told them. "That was a nice dangly bait, and I bit."

"So there isn't a special someone?" Teddy almost looked disappointed. "Wife? Girlfriend?"

"Of course not." Arizona shook her head. "Perpetual bachelorette - that's me. I love my work too much. What about you guys?" Her eyes flitted between the two of them curiously.

Teddy just about jumped half a foot away from Owen. "No. There's no one special, not really."

"Wait until Henry hears that," Owen muttered.

"Who's _Henry_?" Arizona inched forward in her seat.

"He's a  _writer_. For various publications, including _New York Magazine_  and  _Time_ ," Owen replied. His facial expression suddenly soured. "Teddy also happens to be dating him."

"It's only been four dates. Nothing to get excited about," Teddy said. Owen's face seemed to have gone unnoticed by her.

Arizona waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I'm sure you've experienced the post-third date event, haven't you, Teddy?"

"You're so much like Tim!" Teddy groaned. "I'm gonna go back to my desk to look at those reports. Owen, you coming?"

He looked at Arizona. "Go," Arizona told him. "I have another rundown meeting soon anyway, so I better do some work."

Teddy said a quick goodbye and left. The door closed after her. Arizona watched as Owen replaced the photo frame on its place on the bookshelf, then walk towards the door. "Owen?"

Owen's hand was already on the door handle. "Yeah?"

"You're not fooling anyone," Arizona said simply, before focusing her attention back to her screens.

* * *

**7:55PM**

Callie and Mark sat in the dressing room doing some final readings before they had to sit in front of the camera. "Why did we decide that a recap on attacks by Islamic insurgents in the past few weeks should go on the top of the A block instead of, you know, the Congress?" Mark asked.

"Executive decision by our executive producer," Callie said. "I think he knows we're coming back for midnight."

"Nah, they'll work something out."

"I'm surprised that you're being optimistic," Callie said. "Because the government is going to shut down. I think it's a strategic move. Put the shutdown midway down the A block and pretend it's breaking news later on."

"I know for a fact that Maddow is returning at midnight for sure, and she's making her audience clear about that fact." Mark rolled his eyes. "People don't fall for that breaking news shit anymore when it comes to our Congress."

"They do. Most of them acted surprised when we told them that Obama was reelected, even if the he had been leading in the polls since forever. You've been in this industry longer than I have and you still overestimate their ability to not fall for the news."

"You don't  _fall_  for the news. The news is the truth," Mark said.

"No, the news is the version of the truth that we want them to believe."

"Jesus." Mark let out a low whistle. "You're being a little cynical tonight."

Callie looked at him. "The government is falling apart. I think I'm allowed to be a little cynical."

There was a knock on the door. It was Leah, one of their younger APs. "You guys ready? It's time," she said. She left and Callie and Mark followed her. They assumed their seats behind the anchor's desk, where they were hooked up with their earpieces.

"Can you guys hear me?" Owen's voice came through. "Reply so I can check your levels."

"Yup, I can hear you just fine, Owen," Mark said.

"Same here," Callie said.

"Perfect."

"On in ninety seconds," the technical director said.

Mark started smoothing his hair and straightening his tie.

"Don't strain yourself too hard, Sloan," Callie joked. "We're coming back at midnight."

"Cynic."

"Oh no, she's not being cynical," Owen's voice came through their earpieces. "You are coming back at midnight. You can call your date during the ad break to cancel with her."

Mark frowned. "Surely I could be finished with a date in three hours' time?"

" _Mark_!" Callie exclaimed. "Wait, you don't have a date, do you?"

The technical director, again: "Thirty seconds."

"I don't. But if I did, I'm sure I could get it over in three hours."

"That's enough now," Owen said. "There are women in the control room."

Mark laughed. "Sorry, Teddy!"

"And Leah, too."

"Who's Leah?" Mark asked, genuinely confused.

Callie sighed exasperatedly. "Mark!"

"Ten seconds," the technical director told them. "Can Callie move a little bit forward please, just so the light can catch her the right way?" Callie obliged. "Thanks. Two seconds… roll in."

When the opening theme music faded out, Callie and Mark were already looking at the camera. "Good evening. It's Monday, the thirtieth of September. I'm Callie Torres," she said.

"And I'm Mark Sloan. You're watching  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_."

* * *

**9:57PM**

Arizona was in the control room, headset on, her eyes observing six different screens at once. She was on a high. Being in control of most of the aspects of producing a news programme was difficult, and she knew she was going to get better, but at that moment, five minutes to the end, she felt like a maestro.

They were coming to the end of the last segment of the show. "Ten seconds back," the technical director reminded Derek.

"Don't forget to remind our viewers about what's going on at midnight," Arizona told him.

"Copy that," Derek said.

"Two seconds back."

"Good stuff. That segment was produced and filmed by Lexie Grey and Jo Wilson in Manhattan earlier this afternoon. That's it for us for tonight, folks. To all you night owls - don't forget to tune in at midnight for HANCA's special coverage on the US government shutdown. I'm Derek Shepherd, thanks for watching  _America in Focus_. Good night."

Arizona watched the credits play on the scroll at Derek's chest level. Right after the anchor's name was her name.  _Executive Producer, Arizona Robbins_. It sounded great. She could work with that.

* * *

**Tuesday, 12.01AM**

Mark shuffled the papers in front of him before looking up at the camera.

"Roll in," the technical director said. The autocue on the camera began scrolling.

"Good evening. I'm Mark Sloan."

"And I'm Callie Torres. HANCA is bringing you a special midnight report. As of a minute ago, the United States House of Representatives has failed to come to a vote on HJ Res. 59, a resolution which would continue government funding until the fifteenth of December 2013. This resolution struggled through both houses of the Congress because of the House and the Senate repeatedly adding, and then removing, an amendment in the resolution that aimed to defund the Affordable Care Act. Joining us now from Washington DC is Grace Everett, our correspondent from the hill. Grace?"

"Thirty seconds," the technical director said.

Owen watched Callie and Mark sit idly as the DC correspondent spoke into the camera. "Mark, when you come back, can you reiterate that active military personnel, select civilian employees and Defence contractors will be paid during the shutdown. This is because the president has signed a bill put forward by the House that makes this happen," he said through his mouthpiece. "Copy?"

"Gotcha," Mark said calmly.

"Two seconds back."

"Thank you, Grace," Callie said. She turned to her co-anchor. "So, Mark, how exactly is the shutdown going to affect the services provided by the federal government?"

* * *

**12.45AM**

Arizona sidled up next to Teddy, who was standing in the middle of the bullpen, watching Callie and Mark on the screen hanging on the wall. "HANCA did well choosing them as their lead anchors," she told the taller woman.

"Arizona! You're still here? I thought you'd have gone home after your show," Teddy said. "Good work on those vox pops by the way."

One of Arizona's APs, a young upstart named Jo Wilson - had volunteered to go into the streets of Manhattan during rush hour, with a HD handheld camera to ask what people knew about the government shutdown. Arizona told her to take Lexie, and together they came back with some surprisingly good vox pops. "You gotta thank Lexie and Jo for that." When Teddy answered her with a blank look, she said: "Babyfaced, long brown hair?"

"Right, I know Little Grey, but I didn't know the other one. Soft-spoken, right? She's a friend of Shane's but she's one of yours." Teddy nodded. "Are you impressed?"

"Yeah, a little bit," Arizona said. "This is the first time I've worked for network news, I never knew people here were so-"

"Journalistic?" Teddy supplied.

"'Full of initiative' were the words I was going to say."

"You're just surprised that we're not all sellouts," Teddy joked.

"Of course not. Callie and Mark are brilliant anchors, so is Derek," Arizona said. "But then again, Derek did start at the BBC."

"Enough with your elitism. BBC World is a for-profit enterprise too, you know," Teddy said, laughing. "You ran a good show tonight, though."

"Thanks, Teddy." Arizona looked at the time. "I should probably go home. Tell Callie that I think she did a great job tonight."

"Okay." There was a tone to Teddy's voice that Arizona didn't quite understand the meaning of.

It was only when she slid into the cool backseat of the cab home that she realised that she had forgotten to say Mark's name. She had been trying hard to hide any hint of the fact of her past with Callie - including trying to treat her and Mark as a unit - even if the other woman hadn't asked her to, out of respect for her established role on the staff. But even if she didn't slip up with Teddy, someone in the office had to be curious. She knew there was still too much that lingered there.

* * *

**4:30AM**

Cristina fervently knocked on Meredith's apartment door. She was wired after three cups of coffee and was aware that she was going to be paying for at work later that day. She had done plenty of research on Arizona Robbins's background since she got off work for the night. And what she found - well, it just had to be shared.

When Meredith opened the door, Cristina barely noticed her minimal attire of a dress shirt and underwear. Instead, she let herself in, waving the printouts of her research around. And she was also talking at a mile a minute: "I did some digging, and I found out that before Arizona was a studio AP and a field AP in the Middle East and Africa, before she was a senior producer in London, she and Callie were on Al Gore's press bus during the presidential elections in 2000. Of course, I can't ask either of them what really went on, but I found the list of the people on the press bus, and here's an interesting tidbit for you: Addison Montgomery was on it." She flipped the papers to show Meredith a particular photograph. "See, that's a photo of Addison, Callie and Arizona standing next to each other. She works in New York now, too! Maybe I can ask her."

Meredith opened her mouth to say something, but a man's bleary voice got there first. "Mer? Who's here at the _buttcrack_  of dawn talking about my ex-wife in a very loud voice?" It was Derek Shepherd, just pulling his boxers on.

"Oh my god." Cristina's eyes flew from Derek to Meredith. "You're wearing his shirt. You're sleeping with him. Oh my god. Why didn't I see this before?"

Seeming to have found her voice, Meredith dryly told Cristina: "I think the biggest shock of the night is that you're willing to fight for an appointment with one of the busiest editors-in-chief in the news media to ask her about your crazy conspiracy theory."

Derek was rubbing his eyes. "What crazy conspiracy theory involving Addison?"

"Okay, Derek, all due respect," Cristina turned her whole body around to face away from him, "but you're going to need to put a shirt on if you want to keep talking to me. You're no Sloan."

Derek touched his abdomen self-consciously, but stayed put.

Meredith half-heartedly apologised for her best friend with a wave of her hand. "Cristina thinks that Callie had a sordid love affair with Arizona Robbins."

"Yeah, perhaps one that's similar to what's going on here," Cristina said.

"Oh, shut up." Meredith glared sideways at her.

Derek shook his head. "I wouldn't call it a  _sordid_  love affair."

"I think that's exactly what's happening here," Cristina snapped.

"Not  _me and Meredith_ , dammit," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "Callie and Arizona. They dated for almost two years when they were working in DC after the election. Arizona and I were working together then and from what I heard, it was pretty serious. I don't know anything about their breakup, we weren't close then, and even if we were, it's not my business to tell you."

Cristina was flipping pages again. "You said almost two years?"

"Yes," Derek confirmed warily. "Let it go, Yang. It's none of our business."

Cristina pressed on anyway. "Could it have something to do with Arizona accepting a transfer to BBC's Lahore bureau in 2003?"


	3. Flashback, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the first of the flashback chapters! I took a reviewer's advice and decided to release the next part at a later date, in order to create more suspense. Just a content warning: there are some scenes set during 9/11 in this chapter, which I tried to handle with as much sensitivity as possible, but the dates are indicated clearly if you want to skip over those parts. They're not explicit or anything, but they may just be triggering for some readers.
> 
> Current events (and the people in them) mentioned in this story are all true, but the characters' involvement in them is merely well-researched fiction.
> 
> Enjoy!

_Portland, Oregon_   
**May 2000, 7:15AM**

Ellen Robinson, the aide in charge of the press bus for Al Gore's presidential campaign, was having a hectic morning. The journalists had flown in from Portland from their respective bureaus to start the first of Al Gore's cross-country tour in the smaller towns of the battleground states. From the moment they get on the bus, Ellen would be partially responsible for their wellbeing: from their lunches, to their accommodation, to making sure they got up on time in the mornings. It would be like a middle school sleepaway field trip, only worse.

All twenty-three journalists stood in a crowd around her next to the bus. Most of them were young, fresh-faced and eager to start the trip from one end of the country to another. Ellen knew for a fact that a third of them would leave by the time they got to the midwest. "Good morning everyone!" she called out to get their attention. "My name is Ellen, and I'm going to be your go-to person for all your press bus needs. Today we are making the ninety minute drive west to Tillamook for Vice President Gore's speech outside the town hall. Lunch will be roast beef sandwiches, except for those of you who asked for a special menu." She lifted a clipboard. "I know this is going to seem juvenile, but I will need to tick you off on the roll before you can put your stuff in the luggage compartment and climb aboard the bus."

When all the journalists were boarded on the bus, she realised that she had only ticked off twenty-two names. She hopped onto the bus, where everyone was settling in. "I missed ticking someone off on my sheet, guys," she told them. "Is Callie Torres from HANCA here?"

Blank looks were exchanged.

"Come on, no one knows her?" She turned to the driver. "We'll wait another couple of minutes and we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am."

The couple of minutes passed. Ellen looked at her watch again. "Yeah, looks like she's not gonna show," she said. "We better leave now or we'll run the chance of arriving late."

Frantic footsteps were heard from outside the bus. And then a panicked voice: "Wait! Hang on!"

A blonde with curly blonde hair down to her chin smirked. "I guess that's Callie Torres."

Ellen nodded. "I guess it is." She stepped down from the bus. "Callie?"

The stocky yet tall young woman skidded to a stop in front of the press bus, her long, thick black hair flying across her face. "Yes, that's me. Sorry I'm late," she panted. "This is the Al Gore press bus, right?"

"Yes, it is." Ellen gave her a tight smile. "Why don't you stow your gear in the luggage compartment so we can get a move on?"

"Sure." Callie tugged on the compartment doors, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face by them, put her bags away, closed the doors and jumped on the bus. She hadn't managed to find a seat when Ellen gave the driver a nod and they were moving out to the parking lot. Callie swore as she found herself tipping over… into someone's lap. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed as she propped herself up, coming face to face with the most startlingly blue eyes she had ever seen.

The corners of the blue eyes crinkled into a smile. "That's all right, latecomer," she teased.

Callie wanted to tell her that she had great eyes, but instead, she settled into the row across the aisle from her. She was able to properly focus on her face from this distance. Prominent cheekbones, jaw, cute hair… but that smile. And those eyes! "I- I-," she stammered, "I'm Callie."

"I know. Ellen told us," the blonde replied simply. "I'm Arizona. It's nice to meet you, Callie."

From her seat at the front of the bus, Ellen watched the two interact. Callie was blushing like a high school freshman who got a smile from the captain of the football team - in this case, Arizona. It hadn't even been five minutes on the road and she could already see a flirtation blossoming. Ellen couldn't help but shake her head. Those did not end well on the campaign trail.

* * *

_Las Vegas, Nevada_   
**10:00PM**

The campaign and its entourage were staying at a hotel in Henderson, but some of the journalists decided to hire a van to go to Las Vegas that evening. While a lot of the men went off to the slot machines, Callie and Addison Montgomery, the embed from the New York Times, hung around at the bar, sipping cocktails.

"I thought Clark County was safe for blue," Callie said. "Why are we in Vegas?"

Addison pointed at a man having a little too much fun at the craps table. "That upstart over there is one of Gore's junior campaign advisers," she said. "He probably lobbied for that speech at the Henderson town hall today."

Callie blew a low whistle. "Jesus."

"This is your first campaign, isn't it?" Addison asked.

"Yeah. It's not that obvious since it took you a week to realise."

Addison laughed. "Oh no, I realised from the first time I saw you. When you were late on the bus? Don't worry, it's my first presidential campaign, too. I did a lot of midterms reporting in New York though."

"The midterms?" Callie raised an eyebrow."You were probably there when I was in J school!"

"You went to Columbia J school?"

Callie nodded.

"So did I!" Addison said excitedly. "And  _you_  chastised me for being an Ivy League snob."

"We're going to be up in each other's face possibly until September," Callie said, shrugging. "It doesn't hurt to be nice to people." Callie, of course, was referring to the strange rivalry Addison and Arizona had going on since the beginning of the trip. It may just be the fact that they were considered the two most attractive women on the bus by the male journalists. Addison, who probably grew up being told that she was the most beautiful girl in the room, must have felt that she had competition. Arizona, on the other hand, seemed either oblivious or nonchalant over the whole thing.

"I think," Addison paused to take a sip of her drink for effect, "that you have a crush on Arizona Robbins."

Callie's jaw dropped. "I do not!"

"Have you seen yourself around her? That's puppy love if I ever saw it," Addison said.

"Addison."

"It's completely fine, you know," Addison said. "It's a new millennium, god forbid we stop living our lives in a much better way." She nodded at the other side of the large circular bar, where the blonde was seated. "She's over there! Go and talk to her! One of us has to be getting some action."

"You could be getting action if you wanted," Callie said. "But you chose to babysit me."

"Not babysitting." Addison stood up. "I'm going to go play some roulette, maybe meet a nice millionaire that would fund my lifestyle." She glanced at Arizona again. "Talk. To. Her."

"No!" Callie watched Addison leave. "Remember we're going back to Henderson at two o'clock!" she called after her.

"Yeah, yeah." Addison threw her hand up in the air dismissively. "Come on, Torres. What happens in Vegas, right? Have some fun!"

Callie spent the rest of the night watching Arizona drink her beer. Perhaps she did have a crush.

* * *

_Madison, Wisconsin_   
**June 2000, 2:30PM**

Arizona brushed the wayward blonde curls falling across her face. She opened her mouth and knocked back some bottle water that had gone lukewarm inside her backpack. The journalists were sitting on the steps outside the University of Wisconsin-Madison's auditorium, waiting for the candidate to emerge from the town hall-format meeting that he gave.

"I can't believe we're sitting outside in this heat." Addison peered through the double doors into the foyer, which was filled with security and campaign staff. "You realise we've never actually spoken to him directly for weeks now?"

"Why are we even acting surprised?" A Washington Post reporter asked her. Rumour has it was that this particular reporter had such a sour attitude that he was stuck as a campaign journalist forever. "We're living in the era of the spin doctor. You think they'd actually let us talk to him?"

"They could organise a presser for us at the hotel. I'm sure it wouldn't be that much of an effort."

Arizona snorted.

Addison turned to glare at her. "What was that? You got a problem, Berkeley?"

"My name's Arizona."

"All right," Addison said. "But you got a problem?"

"Addison, leave her alone," Callie said. She shot Arizona a sympathetic look.

"If you want to know what my problem is," Arizona said, "it's that it takes a lot of effort to coordinate a presser."

"Did you learn that in California?" Addison asked, not without snark.

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Well, it's a hell of a lot more than what I could learn from my cushy family estate in New Hampshire," she retorted.

Before Addison could think of a response, Callie stepped in. "All right, that's enough now," she said. "Jesus Christ, you two are acting like a pair of sixth grade A-class brats."

Addison turned her attention to something else. Arizona fished in her backpack for the carton of cigarettes she bought a few days ago from Ohio. It was her second carton of the trip. She lit a cigarette and watched Callie, who was now playing a game on her phone. The dark-haired woman appeared as if she had yet to grow into herself, but goddamn, she was beautiful.

Arizona felt despondent as she exhaled a cloud of smoke. It was one thing to be an openly gay young journalist working behind the scenes in the studio. News outlets dug that. Girls dug that. But to be an openly gay young journalist on the road for ten weeks? They had been on the road for a month already, yet Arizona still didn't know how people were going to react to her flirting with women, let alone a fellow journalist on the same press bus.

* * *

_Muscatine, Iowa_   
**6:30PM**

The video version of Arizona on the screen look polished as she spoke into the camera, "We are here in Iowa where Vice President Gore appeared at a public rally this morning, followed by a meet and greet at a local diner. Vice President Gore talked to the citizens of Muscatine about continuing President Clinton's policy of fiscal responsibility in the federal government, while at the same time, investing in the growth and self-sustainability of small communities around the country…"

"You're working. In a bar. During happy hour." Callie sat in the seat next to her.

Arizona, who was hunched over her laptop, looked up. "It's the motel restaurant, which happens to include a bar. Surely I'm allowed to eat my dinner and work at the same time," she said. "I need to get this package to DC by the ten o'clock news."

"Which network are you working for again?" Callie asked.

"Freelance," Arizona corrected. "But I'm a stringer for PBS."

"They couldn't find a poor schmuck in their newsroom to send out on the road for a couple of months?"

Arizona gave her a look. "Is that what happened to you? HANCA, right?"

"Yes, HANCA, and no, I wanted to go," Callie said. "I did most of my training in print but those jobs are harder to come by than they are for television, so I got a job at HANCA as a researcher when I got sick of writing for a daily in Miami. And then this opportunity came along and I took it."

"What does HANCA mean anyway? It's a strange acronym."

"Harper Avery News and Current Affairs."

"That's the news division of Harper Avery Media, right? Prestigious."

"Take one of the first African-American media moguls to make it big, of course he'd want his name plastered on everything he owns," Callie said. "He's got every right to."

"Yeah, I know." Arizona shut her laptop lid. "So, how did you land the gig at HANCA?"

"Sent them my resume and wrote a cover letter saying that I knew the whole rags to riches story. My father lived it - the son of a hotel janitor who ended up owning a transatlantic hotel chain himself - so I grew up in a very privileged position, but that he made sure that I was aware of my roots," Callie explained. "And that HANCA is a company that values the same things that my father values." She smiled proudly. "They ate it all up."

Arizona stared at her in disbelief. "You didn't actually believe in what you were writing?"

"Of course I do, but not as much as how I made it sound like in the letter." Callie laughed. "What about you, Arizona? What's your story?"

"Military brat. My dad was in the Marines. I was born in Japan, actually, just outside a Marine Corps Base. We moved about three times growing up, until Dad got a permanent post in Virginia, and I spent my high school years there," Arizona said. "Contrary to popular perception of military brats, I did love packing up and going to new places, so I decided that journalism would be an appropriate career."

"You are a fascinating person, Arizona Robbins." Callie said this smoothly, as if it was rehearsed.

Arizona closed her laptop lid. "So are you," she said. "Hey, I'm gonna go upstairs and send this over on the dial-up connection. See you tomorrow morning?" She beamed at her.

To her satisfaction, Callie looked appropriately flustered. "Yeah, definitely."

Tucking her laptop under her arm, Arizona walked by the other woman, maybe a little too closely, and leaned down a bit. "You're cute when you stare at me," she whispered, before straightening herself and walking out of the restaurant without looking back.

* * *

_Manchester, New Hampshire  
_ **July 2000, 11.00AM**

Standing in the unloading zone of the Manchester-Boston Regional Airport, Ellen Robinson was almost sad to see the journalists go. One by one, they disembarked from the press bus for the final time and went to collect all their luggage. Not unlike the first time they met, they gathered in a crowd in front of the press aide. But Ellen wasn't the sentimental type. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go check in!" she told them. And so they scampered.

Callie checked in for the flight to LaGuardia, and she stood around while waiting for Addison to check in. She could feel a smile spreading on her face when a familiar blonde came walking towards her.

"Callie," Arizona said brightly. "You're headed to New York?"

"Yeah, I'm visiting my sister and her family for a couple of days before going back to DC for a debrief at the HANCA bureau there," Callie said. "What about you?"

"Flying to DC, then driving to Quantico to stay with my parents for a while, now that my contract with PBS is over," Arizona said.

"I'm sorry about that."

Arizona waved it off. "They paid me enough to last me a couple of months, maybe more, since my parents insist on paying for everything when I stay at their house," she said. "I'll be fine. I shot some good footage, I might be able to sell the rights to a documentary."

"Seriously?" Callie knew that Arizona had the know-how and the instinct to pull it off, but she knew the legal issue around it as well.

Arizona laughed. "Of course not! I was just kidding," she said. "Well, I'm just coming over here to say goodbye, and maybe I'll see you soon…?" A hint of nerves tinted her voice. She inched closer to Callie.

"Yeah, maybe." Callie was having trouble keeping her cool as well.

"Callie." Arizona leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the lips. A brief, chaste kiss.

But Callie couldn't deny the sparks that flew in front of her eyes once Arizona pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Arizona said. Her eyes were fixed on the floor. "I just felt like I had to do that." She looked up again, this time over Callie's shoulder. "Hey, Addison."

"Hey," Addison said from behind Callie. "Torres, you ready to go?"

"Y-yup," Callie stammered.

Arizona's eyes met hers again. "I guess I better go too. My gate's on the other side of the airport from yours." She smiled, and Callie willed herself not go in for another kiss. "Keep in touch, yeah?"

"Of course."

With a small wave, Arizona turned on her heel and walked away from them. Addison joined Callie in watching the blonde's figure get smaller and smaller until she was out of sight. She hummed vaguely. "I don't know why I never noticed that Berkeley had a thing for you, too," she said to Callie. "I knew there was a reason why we never had a full on bitch fight."

"Her name is Arizona," Callie said, even though she was aware that Addison was being facetious. "And yes, it seems that she has a thing for me."

Addison grinned, clearly happy for her friend. "You got her number? Her email?"

"Shit." Callie swallowed. "I don't."

"Oh well. I wouldn't sweat it. Maybe she has yours," Addison said reassuringly.

"Yeah." Callie was chastising herself in her head anyway. "Maybe she does."

* * *

_Washington DC_   
**September 11, 2001, 1:30PM**

Because the West Wing was evacuated, the White House Press Corps were cooped up in the largest conference room at the Chrysler offices on Pennsylvania Avenue, where the White House's communication staff had decided to set up temporary headquarters. "America is under attack", President Bush had said. It was widely admitted among the press corps that if it wasn't their own country under attack, it would have been a journalistic dream for them.

Callie worked with her senior correspondent, Jack Lee, to write up coherent fact sheets to email through to the DC bureau. Everyone around them worked efficiently but numbly. Constant announcements about the president's course of action after the attacks had everyone on edge to inform their outlets' newsrooms as quickly as they could. The building had adequate Internet and phone connections, but the number of people using it all at once meant that reports coming from the White House reached newsrooms slowly.

Callie watched as Ari Fleischer, the Press Secretary, entered the room. He too appeared to be in a daze. The journalists looked at him expectantly. "Mayor Anthony Williams has declared a state of emergency in DC. The DC National Guard is arriving as we speak," he told them.

"Ari!" A reporter called from the back of the room. "Is there an update on the President's current whereabouts?"

"As DC is still being secured from more potential threats that could come any time today, the President is en route to a bunker in Nebraska until it is deemed safe for him to return to the White House," Fleischer spoke in a steady voice, allowing time for the journalists to write down what he was saying.

"Are there any updates on the Pentagon?" someone else asked.

"Not at the moment," Fleischer replied. "For anything non-president related, I know just about as much as you do, guys. Sorry. I would trust your outlets to be relying on other sources besides the White House on the status of the attack sites. I will come back if I hear anything else though, thank you." He stepped out again.

"Do you really think it's Bin Laden?" Callie asked Jack in a low voice.

"A bunch of terrorists just rammed a planes into buildings full of people, Callie. They're saying it's the biggest number of casualties on an attack on American soil ever. I know you think he's a bit of a dweeb, but do you think Bush would be pointing random fingers unless he had solid evidence for a motive?" He shrugged. "Times like these, we have to believe what the president says, and carry his message through to our audiences, okay? We'll doubt him if he gives us a reason to - that's our job, after all - but right now, we've got to believe him, because the American people need to believe him."

* * *

**7:25PM**

On the steps of the Capitol building, the members of Congress sang "God Bless America" together in front of the whole nation. The Press Corps had emerged from their makeshift office in Pennsylvania Avenue, and the television reporters had their camera gear out, getting some quality footage.

Callie was lining up the shot for Jack, who was on his haunches, double checking over his copy before facing the camera, when she heard someone call out: "Oh my god, Callie, is that you?" She turned around to see Arizona Robbins, her hair longer and dishevelled, carrying a case of camera equipment.

"Arizona," she said. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I mean, it's been a crazy day, but I'm functioning. My EP sent me out with a reporter because we're short on camera operators. Some of them are stuck at airports." The blonde's face was pale and ashen. "But god, you work at the White House! You must be wigged out."

"I'm doing the same as you. Focusing on this," Callie nodded at the camera she was setting up, "is keeping me going for now."

"Jesus Christ. I can't believe this is happening."

"I don't think anyone can, really."

"Callie," Jack addressed her. "We should get started."

"I gotta go," Callie told Arizona.

"Yeah, I've got to set this camera up anyway. You take care," Arizona said, giving Callie a sad smile. She was about to start walking away when she turned to face the dark-haired woman once more. "I know it's not the time, but… I'm really sorry for not getting in touch after New Hampshire. I forgot to get your number or your email, and I felt like such a doofus that I couldn't work up the courage to ask someone else for it." When Callie just stared at her, she quickly added, "I just thought you should know," before walking off to find a spot to set up.

Disregarding the strange look that Jack was giving her, Callie fished in her satchel for a business card and a pen. She scrawled her personal number on the back. "Arizona! Wait!" She ran to follow the blonde, making sure that she didn't knock over anyone else's camera equipment on the way. She caught up, panting slightly, and handed Arizona the business card.

Arizona looked at it, then looked up at her. "What's this?"

"Call me when you're ready, okay?" Callie said calmly. With that, she made her way back to her camera.

* * *

**October 10, 2001, 1:30AM**

It probably wasn't the right thing to do at the time, but Arizona wasn't thinking about that. She took a poured herself another glass of wine - her fourth or fifth for the night, she couldn't remember - before feverishly searching up a number on her phone. Against her rational judgement, she jabbed the call button and held the phone to her ear.

Someone picked up after three rings. "Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line was bleary.

Arizona sat up suddenly. She didn't expect anyone to answer the phone. "Callie, it's Arizona. Robbins."

"Arizona? What's going on?"

"I don't even know wh-why I'm calling." A short burst of laughter escaped from her mouth. "You just told me to call when I'm ready, and I don't think I am, but I-I just want to - need to - _talk_. To someone. Anyone. You."

"Arizona, are you drunk?"

"Tipsy," Arizona corrected. "And for good reason, I swear. I need to talk to you."

Callie's voice grew more concerned. "Give me your address. I'll get a cab right over," she said.

"No, C-Calliope," the blonde slurred in protest. "It's late. We both have work, and I'm guessing your hours are earlier than mine. Not ad-advisable. I shouldn't have called, it was st-stupid. I'll call when I'm sober to apologise properly."

"Arizona. Your address," Callie said firmly.

"Oooh! Your voice goes all sexy when you're bossy like that." Arizona giggled, and relayed her address to the woman on the other end of the line. "Be safe, Calliope!"

"How do you know my full first name?" Callie demanded.

"I think it was on your press corps ID pinned to your hip when we ran into each other near the Capitol?" Arizona replied. She broke out into another fit of giggles. "Sorry I was looking there!"

Callie sighed. "I'll be there ASAP." She hung up.

* * *

It took Callie twenty-five minutes to arrive at Arizona's apartment. The blonde buzzed her in and opened the door. "Hi, you came! You're not a hallucination, right?" she asked brightly, stepping aside to let Callie in. She obviously had squeezed in a few more drinks while Callie was en route.

"I'm going to get you a glass of water. Lead me to your kitchen," Callie said. Arizona pointed in a vague direction, so Callie searched for the glasses herself and filled one up for Arizona. She sat next to the blonde on the lounge. "No more chardonnay for tonight." She moved the bottle of white wine - the second one - out of reach. "Drink this." She pushed the glass of water at Arizona.

"I was just getting started on my merlot," she joked weakly, but started drinking the water anyway. Her hands were shaking so some water dribbled on her chin. "Why did you come?"

"You worried me over the phone," Callie said patiently. "What's up? Why are you drinking this much on a work night?"

Arizona drank more water, then handed the glass back to Callie, implying that she wanted another one. Callie obliged and returned with another full glass, which Arizona drank in one long gulp. She placed the glass on the coffee table in front of them. "The craziest thing about being a journalist," she started, noticeably a little more sober, "is that people - including yourself, sometimes - believe that you're just an observer and relayer of events."

"I'm not following," Callie said. "I mean, I totally get what you're saying, I'm just not following your line of thought."

"Bush declared the War on Terror on Sunday, yes?"

"Yeah…"

"My brother's going to Afghanistan tomorrow. He's been a soldier since the nineties, he's been deployed to a war zone before," Arizona told her. "It shouldn't be a big deal, right? My father fought in Vietnam just after he and my mother got engaged. He fought in the Gulf, too. Mom could remember being so afraid that he wasn't going to come home. Tim - my brother - was in Kosovo, and I remembered feeling the same way, but he wasn't there for very long."

"Well, maybe he won't be there for very long either." Callie rubbed Arizona's shoulder lightly.

"He called me yesterday. He's on a plane to Germany right now where he'll stay for a few hours before flying into Kabul," Arizona told her. "He said that he was told that they are going to be fighting the Taliban, but he admitted to me that he doesn't really know what he's fighting for, except that he's serving our country and that's what we all need to remember."

Callie let Arizona's sentence hang in the air around them. After a moment of hesitation, she draped her arm around the blonde's shoulder and pulled her in. "This is what we'll do," Callie said. "You're going to brush your teeth and go to bed. I'll sleep on your couch. I'm going to call us both in sick for work, because I'm going to drive us to Quantico to visit your parents. They still live there, right?"

Arizona nodded. Her chin had brushed against the side of Callie's breast, and Callie tried hard not to react to the sensation.

"I don't know much about war, or having loved ones in the armed forces, but what I do know is that you guys need to be a family right now," Callie said. "Does that sound okay?"

Arizona nodded again.

"Okay, go get ready for bed."

The blonde stood up and made her way to the bathroom. After she brushed her teeth, she came out to stand by where Callie was making herself comfortable on the couch. "I have a king-sized bed," she said.

Callie opened her eyes and stopped squirming. "Sorry?"

"You can come join me. I have a king-sized bed," Arizona repeated. "We don't need to touch."

Telling herself that it was just for tonight, Callie agreed.

* * *

**October 12, 2001, 5:00PM**

Arizona and Callie were about fifteen minutes away from DC, riding in the sedan that Callie rented to go to Quantico. They didn't mean to stay there two nights - and consequently, miss three days of work - but Callie had called Arizona's parents before they drove there and both of them apparently insisted that the two women pack a couple of night's worth of clothes. Arizona suspected that Callie had been raised to be courteous to those offering their hospitality, so she had no choice but to accept.

Spending time with her mom and dad in their colonial-style home - where she spent her high school years and numerous college weekends in - had been good for her, and she thought it was good for them, too. Together, they kept up with the news about what was happening in Afghanistan, made meals together and most importantly, talked and reassured each other about Timothy's safety.

Arizona noted that Callie kept her distance from the family moments, but dug her hands right in when it came to chipping in with cooking and household chores. She was surprised how well Callie got on with her parents. She had even woken up from a brief nap to find her father sharing conversation with the dark-haired woman on the porch over some coffee. She knew Callie didn't know this about Colonel Daniel Robbins of the United States Marine Corps, but he didn't invite just anybody to have his afternoon coffee with him.

"You're very quiet," Callie murmured. Her eyes flitted to Arizona quickly before focusing back on the road.

Arizona gave her a reassuring smile. "I was just doing some thinking."

"About what?"

"About how my parents were impressed with you."

"You think?" Callie asked happily. "I wanted them to be."

"Really?" Arizona smirked. "Now, why could that be?"

"Nothing," Callie said quickly. "I mean, it's just how I was raised. We gave them such little notice before driving there and they insisted that we stay two nights. You're their daughter, so that's a given, but they just met me, so yeah, that was really nice. I had to return the favour somehow."

"Your spinach and feta cheese risotto with that grilled chicken certainly ranked you above their daughter whose speciality is burgers," Arizona said.

"Hey, I can tell that they're pretty proud of you too. Your dad was gushing about you when we had coffee together. It was all Arizona this, Arizona that."

Arizona took secret pleasure that her father talked to Callie about her. "I sure hope he didn't tell any embarrassing stories."

Callie waved her off. "Oh, just some pretty naughty things you and Timothy got up to when you were younger," she said vaguely. "But that's stuff between me and him."

"Ah, you're sharing secrets with my dad now, aren't you?" Arizona laughed. She was suddenly enjoying the idea of her father and Callie exchanging stories. "It seems like you had a great time in Quantico. I'm glad you did. I mean, it was _your_  idea after all."

"I thought it would cheer you up," Callie said, shrugging.

"Thank you," Arizona said sincerely.

"It's what friends do," Callie said. She swallowed. "We are friends, right? Even if we kinda just reappeared in each other's lives randomly?"

Arizona nodded. "Of course we're friends. You can't come out of a cross-country tour for ten weeks and not be." Admittedly, she felt a little stung. But perhaps she shouldn't be expecting much from Callie anyway. They had just started hanging out, after all. If Tim was a phone call away, he'd tell Arizona to take her time.

* * *

**December 7, 2001, 6.45PM**

Callie was nervous because her cab was running late. But she was also nervous because she hadn't been on a date in ages. Sure, she had gone out with a couple of people here and there since being based permanently in DC, but with her work schedule, it was hard to sustain any relationship, no matter how casual it was. So she had every right to be nervous every time she had a date, right?

She picked up the phone to dial her companion for the evening. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Sorry, I called for a taxi fifteen minutes ago but the company called saying that it would arrive another ten minutes later than expected," she explained. "I guess I'm just calling to say not to freak out."

"I'm not freaking out.  _You're_  the one who's freaking out. Chill, it's going to be okay." The person on the other end laughed.

This assuaged the knots of anxiety in Callie's stomach. "Okay. I'll see you soon. Bye."

* * *

Arizona logged into her email and was pleasantly surprised to find a message from Timothy. She clicked on it and grew immediately more cheerful. Her eyes moved across the screen, reading the email in her brother's droll, lively voice.

_Hey dork,_

_I'm sorry it took so long to send you an email. We're stopping by a bigger camp in Kabul to get more supplies, and they've got internet here. It's pretty crap but I think this will send okay. I did get your letters a couple of weeks ago, and have written back, but you know how the army postal service is._

_Anyway, I wrote about this in my letter, but I thought I'd bring it up here now. Dad wrote to me saying that you came to Quantico for a visit, with a girl! Well, "pleasant young woman" were the words he used. Her name is Calliope or something hot like that. Arizona - what kind of women are you hanging out with? Can you introduce me to some of them? (Only the ones that go out with guys like me, though!)_

_Jokes aside, Dad and Mom seem to really like this Calliope girl. I'm not saying date her to make them happy, but they said she made you laugh, so maybe you should date her to make you happy, too. Get it done. You deserve it, baby sis._

_I have funnier jokes about this whole matter in my letter to you, which will hopefully arrive before New Year's Eve. I hope you're kissing someone then, because I sure won't be._

_Your big brother,_

_Timmy_

Arizona was smiling at her screen for a while when there was knocking on the door. She shut her laptop down and went to meet whoever was on the other side of the door. As she pulled it open, she could feel her smile getting wider. She hadn't known that it could. "Hello, Calliope."

Callie stood in front of her, a black peacoat over her dress, bag slung over one shoulder. "Arizona." She was grinning. "You look great tonight."

"So do you." She felt shy in her simple blue dress. "Let me just get my coat." A minute later, with her coat on and purse in hand, she and Callie slid inside the backseat of a cab. The destination was one of the most expensive restaurants in DC. As soon as she got the chance, she would write Timothy a letter about how she got it done.


	4. Fire Starters

**Thursday, 9:30AM**

Scoop was the name of the café around the corner from the HANCA building, and some of the APs sat and talked over coffee there most mornings before going to work. Cristina, Meredith and Lexie were seated in a corner booth. Lexie’s eyes and thumb were working in sync as she caught up on her Twitter feed, while Meredith and Cristina pored over a shared copy of _The New York Times_ that they procured from the magazine rack.

“I did some more research on Arizona Robbins,” Cristina said out of the corner of her mouth.

Memories of Tuesday coming back to her, Meredith shot her a glare. “I thought we’ve decided that you’re going to drop that,” she said.

Lexie looked up from her tablet. “Drop what?”

“Hasn’t our new EP seemed a little bit of an enigma to you?” Cristina asked the younger Grey, aware that she was more attracted to gossip than her sister. “Well, I looked her up and got some juicy information.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, _Lexie_ ,” Meredith groaned. Cristina was such an enabler.

“Ten years ago, Arizona was a producer at the BBC in DC, and she was in a relationship with someone she met on Al Gore’s press bus during the 2000 campaign.” Cristina paused for effect. “Callie, who happened to be HANCA’s senior White House Correspondent at the time.”

“Callie?” Lexie’s eyes widened. “As in, our Callie Torres? Was it serious?”

Meredith buried her hands in her face.

“Yup.” Cristina was nodding. “I don’t have any specifics, but they were living together at the beginning of 2003, but suddenly neither of them were at that address anymore by mid-November.”

“You looked up their _address_?” Meredith asked incredulously.

“Why, what happened?” Lexie asked at the same time.

“Arizona moved to Pakistan to work at the Lahore bureau,” Cristina said. “And I don’t think she and Callie saw each other again until a little over two weeks ago.”

“Shit,” Lexie said. “That’s pretty tough.”

Alex took a seat next to Meredith, nursing a cup of coffee. “Who are we talking about?”

“Arizona,” Lexie replied.

“Oh.” Alex’s eyes lit up. Everyone knew he harboured admiration for Arizona, who in turn, had chosen him as a favourite. “Did you look her up, Yang? I’ve always wanted to know her background, I just felt awkward asking.”

Cristina rolled her eyes. “If you must know, she was born in Japan, went to high school in Quantico, summa cum laude at American University, then UC Berkeley for J school. She produced a series of stories on Pakistan after Benazir Bhutto’s assassination in 2007-”

“Which she won the Peabody for,” Alex said, a hint of reverence in his voice. When Cristina gave him a look, he shrugged. “That much I know.”

“Yup, and she was shortlisted for the Pulitzer last year for covering anti-austerity riots in Greece.”

Meredith slapped her hand on the table. “See? Now, why didn’t we talk about this before?”

Alex looked at her. “Huh? What were you guys talking about before I got here?”

“About how Arizona and Callie were in a relationship and they had a messy breakup,” Cristina said bluntly.

“Callie Torres? How messy?” Alex asked.

“Well, Arizona ended up moving to Pakistan in the middle of two wars, so…”

“Is that an assumption or did you find confirmation for that?” The protective tone in Alex’s voice didn’t escape the others’ notice.

“Assumption,” Meredith said.

“Very _strong_ one,” Cristina said. “Stop judging me, Mer, I’m very close to finding out the truth.”

“Honestly, Cristina,” Alex frowned, “I don’t think it’s any of our business anyway. Why can’t we just leave what happened with them to them? It was ten years ago after all. And most people won’t care as long as they don’t start getting into bitter shouting matches in the newsroom.”

Cristina huffed. “You just like her because she gives you the time of day.”

“I like her because she recognises that I could be good at this,” Alex told her. “Besides, she’d give you the time of day too if you weren’t so cold and surly around her.”

Lexie laughed. “And this is coming from Mr Grumpy.”

Alex raised his hands in defeat. “I’m just saying, Arizona’s a great EP. You just have to fight perky with perky,” he said. The others looked at him, bemused. “What? At least I’m talking about fixing things in the present to improve the future, instead of speculating on the past.”

Meredith chuckled into her coffee, and avoided Alex’s eyes as she drank it.

Cristina laughed more audibly, shaking her head. “Oh, Alex. You’ve drunk the Arizona Robbins Kool-Aid.”

“Just make sure this doesn’t spread around the office,” he snapped. “I don’t think anyone has the time for more office gossip. God knows, we already do so much of it.” He focused on drinking his coffee, and so, missed Cristina mouthing, “The Kool-Aid!” to Meredith and Lexie over his head.

* * *

**5:30PM**

There was even more whispering than usual among the APs in the conference room when Owen and Teddy entered for the third rundown meeting. As he took his place at the head of the table, Owen decided to ignore it. “Good morning,”  he said. “Teddy and I have decided - against our better judgement - to lead with the shooting in Washington DC today instead of going over the answers to the questions in the White House daily briefing.”

“Why is it against our better judgement?” Stephanie Edwards asked.

“Because we told ourselves not to start the show with horrible stuff like this, but we feel like we could take a different angle on it. Besides, covering the daily briefing is what the DC bureau is for, no offence to anyone who transferred from there.” Owen cleared his throat awkwardly. “We don’t know what this angle is yet. Does anyone have any suggestions?”

“I think I got one.” April Kepner’s fingers nimbly flew over her laptop. “The Capitol Police who subdued the woman - who they determined as a credible threat to DC - aren’t being paid wages because of the shutdown.”

Teddy frowned in consideration. “I thought the Capitol Police are deemed as ‘essential’ services?” she asked.

“Essential enough to go have to report to work, but no pay at all during the shutdown.”

There were several low whistles in the room. “Shit, that’s harsh,” Shane muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Owen agreed. “They can pay the military overseas but can’t pay the people protecting the seat of government. That’s messed up.”

Teddy appeared distracted as she scanned the room. “Where’s Meredith? Isn’t she in charge of something?”

“She was on the phone,” Stephanie gestured in a vague direction.

“Well, she needs to be here.”

Meredith ran inside the conference room. “Sorry guys,” she panted. “I have news!”

“We’re in that business,” Owen deadpanned. “What have you got?”

Grinning, Meredith announced: “I was able to book Michele Bachmann.”

 Owen’s jaw went slack. The whispering even stopped. “ _What_?”

“Tea Party crackpot Michele Bachmann?” Leah asked.

April gave her a look. “Oh, come on, Murphy, don’t judge.”

“You booked Michele Bachmann for real?”

“Five minutes into the A block,” Meredith said proudly. “I fought for it. She’s highly in demand with all the big news networks.”

“I’m sure HANCA will feel privileged for the five minutes of primetime gold she’ll give us tonight,” Teddy said in an undertone.

Mark poked his head in. “Hey guys, what’s going on here?”

“Michele Bachmann has agreed for an interview in the A block tonight,” Owen told him.

Mark burst into a full, deep laugh. “ _Awesome_ ,” he said. “Lock it in. I’ll rip her apart.”

“Rip who apart?” Callie walked up next to Mark, a curious expression on her face. Her eyes flitted from Mark to Owen. “Who are we ripping apart tonight?”

“Michele Bachmann. In the A block,” Mark said. “And _I’m_ ripping her apart, not you.”

Callie turned to Owen. “Please tell me you’re giving Michele Bachmann to me, not to him.”

“You’ll both be interviewing Michele Bachmann,” Owen decided. The two anchors groaned. Everyone else went back to whispering. “In fact, after this, you’ll be working with Meredith to get a plan of attack going.” He pointed his pen at April. “You’re going to produce a package on the DC shooting, three minutes maximum at the top of the A block, show me by seven-thirty at the latest. Everyone else, do what Teddy’s assigned you and _stop whispering_!”

A silence fell over the room. Stephanie tentatively spoke up: “Are we dismissed?”

Owen sighed. “Yes.”

The APs rushed out of the conference room, and the whispering started again as soon as they were back in the bullpen. Callie followed them with their eyes, then looked at Owen. “What is up with them? It’s like they’re back in high school.”

“Karev has probably given one of them the clap,” Mark said, before walking off to join Meredith at her desk.

* * *

**8.09PM**

Owen waited from the nod from Meredith before speaking into his mouthpiece. “Mark, Callie, we’re having technical issues over at the DC bureau in setting up Bachmann’s broadcast,” he said slowly. “You’re going to need to go to break so they can have time to sort it out. Copy?”

“Yup,” Mark said.

“Five seconds back.”

“Thanks, Jenny,” Callie said when the correspondent’s segment finished. “After the break, we’re going to have a chat with Congresswoman Michele Bachmann of the Republican Party. This is _The Eight O’Clock Breakdown_ , stay tuned.”

“Four minutes and thirty seconds back.”

Mark sipped some water before regarding Callie with an inquisitive gaze. “So, I heard something interesting about you and Arizona Robbins today,” he said in a low voice.

Callie, who was drinking water herself, tried hard not to choke on it. “What?” she spluttered. “What about me and Arizona?”

“Chill, Torres,” he said, chuckling. “Some of the APs are just spreading rumours that you two used to be a thing.” He watched the colour drain from Callie’s face. “Unless it’s more than just a rumour…”

“Which AP?”

“I dunno.” Mark shrugged. “The younger ones. Shane, Stephanie and…” he squinted. “Leah?”

“Did you ask them how they came to that conclusion?”

Mark shook his head. “I was eavesdropping on them when April asked me for advice on her story as I was passing through the bullpen,” he explained. “Well, is it true or not? Were you and Arizona a thing?”

To Callie’s relief, Owen - who was probably listening to their conversation the entire time - cut in through their earpieces. “Two minutes, guys, and you’ve carefully prepared this interview so can we not get distracted, please?”

“Right, gotcha.” Smirking, Mark didn’t take his eyes off Callie.

* * *

**8.58PM**

Teddy was apologetic as she approached Arizona, who was standing by Bailey’s desk. “Hey, we’re really sorry for running overtime. That Bachmann interview was exhausting,” she said. “You ever feel like you could control every aspect of an interview, but then you realise you can really only control your anchors? The other side can be as wacko as they want.”

Arizona smiled brightly. Bailey, however, did not. “That’s perfectly fine!” the shorter blonde said cheerfully. “We can’t guarantee not going overtime ourselves. We’ve got a great interview lined up for tonight.”

“Yeah?”

Bailey’s expression transformed from frustrated to excited. “House Minority Leader _Nancy Pelosi_. I actually got to brief her today. I thought I might faint.”

“Ah, you’re a Pelosi fan, aren’t you?” Arizona clapped her senior producer on the back, before turning her attention to Teddy.

“Well, at least she probably won’t launch into those crazy tirades that Bachmann went into several times tonight, without Mark or Callie being able to rein her in,” Bailey said critically.

Teddy gave her a tight, but patient smile. “I’ll make sure to get your feedback to Owen.”

Bailey looked at Arizona. “I’m gonna go set up in the control room. You coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right with you.” Arizona watched her leave, before turning to Teddy. “What’s up with Bailey?”

“Didn’t you know? Her father has a PhD in molecular chemistry, he works at the National Science Foundation,” Teddy said. “They had to furlough their scientists, and he’s one of them. She’s not the biggest fan of any politician today. Except maybe Nancy Pelosi.”

Arizona’s eyes widened. “That could have been an awesome story. It still can be.”

“Arizona, don’t be such a hound.” Teddy dismissed her with a wave. “Miranda Bailey is a great journalist, but her whole schtick is not to mix personal with the professional. Which is why she probably hasn’t told you about her dad.”

“How come _you_ know this?” Teddy and Bailey didn't seem particularly chummy to Arizona.

Teddy smiled proudly. “I get her drunk one time.”

“That would have been a sight to see!” Arizona laughed. “I better go, seriously,” she said. With a wave, she jogged to the control room, her tablet under her arm. She bumped into someone while coming down the corridor.

“Watch it!” Callie said. But when she realised it was Arizona, her hand shot out to grasp her around the arm. “Hang on, I wanna ask you something.”

Arizona looked straight into Callie’s eyes. Even in the dim light of the hallway, she could see how brown they were. Or maybe her memory was just filling in the gaps for her. “What?” she managed to ask, after a few seconds of staring.

Whatever positive feeling Arizona thought was there between them completely evaporated when Callie asked: “Did you tell your staff that you and I used to be involved?”

* * *

**9:20PM**

In the control room, Arizona watched the screens carefully, trying her best to concentrate on what the interview, and not what Callie asked her. She had insisted that she had no idea what was going on, but it didn’t look like the other woman believed her. Before she could persuade her, Bailey had stormed towards her to yank her inside the control room.

“Come on, Derek,” she said in a singsongy, yet stern voice. She didn’t feel like messing around today. “Tell her to get off the party message!”

“Nancy, Nancy…” Derek cut in through the politician’s rant politely. “You’re not saying anything that you haven’t said already in the last four days.”

“Because that’s all there needs to be said,” Pelosi insisted. “A small faction is holding the Republic Party hostage, and they’re taking the government hostage. That’s all there is to it.”

“We both know that’s not it.”

“That’s exactly it.”

“So you’re not going to respond to my question about the Democratic Party’s failure to compromise.”

“There is no failure to compromise because there was no proper negotiation process, Derek.”

“Go for the money shot,” Arizona said.

“Will you answer this question,then, Nancy?” Derek paused, as if reading something from his notes. “What does the Democratic Party plan to do to help those government workers who have been furloughed?”

Pelosi’s face slackened. “I have to admit that we can’t do much,” she said. “But we will talk to the banks and we will place our good faith in business owners to be understanding towards furloughed government employees.”

Arizona snorted. “Aren’t the Dems going on about how business owners are reckless and evil?” When Derek shot a questioning glance at the camera, she added, “Don’t ask her that, that’s a stupid question. Just follow through and wrap it up.”

“Nancy, what is another term for government employees?”

“Excuse me?”

“What is another term for government employees?”

“Public servants, of course,” Pelosi said easily.

“Public servants, as in people who are serving the public. The public being the American people. The public being this country.”

Pelosi’s expression turned wary. “Yes.”

Derek leaned forward. “Tell me something, Nancy. Democrat or Republican, you - and the other members of Congress - are still being paid your salary during the shutdown, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Would you consider yourself a public servant?”

“Yes.”

Because her gut was telling her to, Arizona recited a figure in Derek’s ear. She had gotten one of the APs to Google it for her earlier that day, in case it needed to come up.

“Well then,” Derek leaned back again, “you’re still earning your one hundred and ninety-three thousand, four hundred dollars, _plus benefits_ , yet your career begins and ends at the discretion of the American people.” He paused. “So, Nancy, can you please tell me what is it that makes you different - rather, what is it that makes you _better_ \- than someone who is hired to serve this country - for a much lower salary, may I add - and someone who can get axed from their job for not showing accountability on network television? Because I’m dying to know, and I’m sure the Capitol cleaners are, as well.”

After Nancy Pelosi muttered out a vaguely coherent response, Arizona told Derek, “Wrap it up and go to break.” Derek did so.

“Five minutes back,” the technical director said.

“Great, that is so going to be on YouTube by the end of tonight!” Arizona exclaimed. “Nancy Pelosi fumbles in front of McDreamy. Well, at least our ratings might go up a little bit.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “You said go for the money shot.”

“The money shot was you asking her what the Dems plan to do about helping the furloughed employees out!”

“I thought we could go one further than that.”

“Well, I didn’t know that you’d go as far as to _humiliate_ her.”

“Humiliate? I think you’re overreacting, Arizona,” Derek said. “Besides, it’s you who told me that we’re not in the business of making any politician look good, we’re in the business of holding them accountable.”

“When did I tell you that?” Arizona felt confused.

“At the rundown meeting when Bailey said we booked Pelosi!”

In the control room, Arizona turned around to look at Bailey. The shorter woman nodded. “You did say that,” she confirmed.

Derek gave Arizona an incredulous look through the camera. “God, what’s gotten into you?”

* * *

**10.05PM**

Derek watched as Arizona stepped into the studio, supposedly after debriefing the control room over tonight’s show. “Okay, that was a really good interview. I meant what I said before the show. We’re not the ‘liberal media’ or the ‘conservative media’. We’re HANCA, and this is what we’re meant to be doing,” the blonde admitted to him. “But next time? You should listen to your EP.”

“Got that,” Derek said, smiling despite himself.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Have you got a Republican lined up for me?”

“Better,” Arizona said. “A representative from the Red Lake Indian Reservation in Minnesota has agreed to get himself to our affiliate office and we’re doing a live interview. I’ve also got Cristina and Lexie coordinating with our west coast office for a piece on the Yurok Indian Reservation for the day after. The shutdown is hitting them hard.”

“Isn’t it hitting everyone hard?”

The EP looked thoughtful. “When it’s coming from the perspective of people who have been repeatedly betrayed by the leaders of this country, even if they’re the ones who got here first, those cuts are particularly deep,” she said. “Besides, do you think MSNBC or Fox are gonna do that story? Pelosi is your last politician interview for the rest of the shutdown.”

Derek scowled. “When did you make that decision?”

“Just now,” Arizona said. She must have read the disbelieving look on Derek’s face. “Hey, it’s _America in Focus_. Callie and Mark can rip politicians apart just like Maddow does, but we’ll do something different.”

“Government policy with a human focus,” Derek recalled the words Arizona said to him when she first arrived.

“Exactly,” Arizona said. “Anyway, I’m gonna let you go so I can debrief the staff. Good show tonight.” She turned on her heel and left the studio.

Derek called after her: “We’ll have a better one tomorrow!”

* * *

10.30PM

Jacket on top of his shirt and satchel slung over one shoulder, Alex entered the first elevator that opened and leaned back against the cool wall. In his four years of working for HANCA, he had never felt so exhausted with his job. At the same time, he had never felt so satisfied either. Finally, he was being challenged, and the fact that he was told that he was doing good work was something that made him enjoy being a journalist even more.

“Wait up.” An arm shot through the closing elevator doors, making them open again. Arizona Robbins entered the elevator with a smile. Her hair was tousled from her constantly running her fingers through it throughout the day, a habit that Alex noticed from the beginning of her tenure. Arizona tied her hair up in the control room, though, and from the few times that Alex had been working in there during a show, he knew that Arizona was even better when she was in control of something.

“I liked that Pelosi interview,” Alex told her. “I wish I had been in the control room.”

Arizona looked at him. “I didn’t produce that last part,” she said. “Derek kinda went rogue.”

“You let him though, and it didn’t turn out bad in the end,” Alex said. “He’d probably end up on a few blogs tomorrow, be on talkback radio, but it’ll die down. He didn’t do anything that memorable, if we’re being honest.”

“Yeah, he really didn’t, did he?” Arizona laughed. “Hey, since we’re being honest, can I ask you a question? It’s about some office gossip going around.”

Alex froze. “Shoot.”

She took a deep breath. “Did you hear any rumours in the bullpen today about me and Callie?”

For a second, Alex didn’t know whether he should tell Arizona the truth. He didn’t know if she was going to get angry at him or Cristina - which he didn’t want - but he really didn’t want to get on her bad side. Choosing his words carefully, he finally told her, “I was only told that it wasn’t a rumour. That’s about it.”

“Okay, I promise you now that whoever told you that isn’t going to get in trouble, as long as you tell me first,” Arizona told him.

“Why should I tell you first?”

“Have you seen Callie angry?”

Alex had. He and the other staff were shaken for days. He nodded.

“If you tell me first, I’m not going to get anyone in trouble, and I’m going to deal with Callie myself,” Arizona said. “She’s upset about it right now but I think I can defuse her.”

From what the blonde just said said, Alex discerned that Cristina was right: his EP and the eight o’clock anchor did actually have a past. “What if whoever I heard it from was a friend of mine?” he asked vaguely. “How am I supposed to believe you wouldn’t throw them in front of Callie’s wrath?” He knew that Cristina could take Callie on, but getting in Callie’s bad books for an indefnite period was something even someone as stubborn as her couldn’t handle.

“Alex, have some faith in me. Not that kind of EP, remember?”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because I’m really not,” Arizona said. “I plan on sticking around at HANCA for a while, so I’ll be your EP unless you get sick of me and ask for a transfer. We’re going to need to trust each other.”

“Don’t tell anyone that I told you this,” Alex shifted from one foot to another, averting eye contact with Arizona, “but I love my work right now, and I’d never ask for a transfer as long as you’re my EP.”

A smile spread on the blonde’s face. “So tell me who told you about me and Callie, then.”

* * *

**Friday, 10.45AM**

In the elevator going to the newsroom floor, Mark was chuckling as he scrolled down his Twitter feed. Their predictions were correct. Derek Shepherd did end up on social media because of the Pelosi interview, and as his best friend and colleague, Mark wasn’t going to let him forget it. “I’m retweeting this,” he announced to Callie, who was standing next to him, frowning and drinking her coffee. “It’s a Storify post of the best tweets about Derek last night.”

“Cool,” Callie said nonchalantly.

“What’s up with you, Torres?” Mark cocked his head curiously.

“I just hate being the subject of office gossip. I swear, the newsroom was looking at me oddly last night.”

“Because you’re odd-looking,” Mark joked.

Callie glared at him. “This isn’t really a time to be funny, Mark.”

“It’s always the time to be funny,” Mark countered. He tapped his phone screen then showed it to Callie. “Check this blog post out: _HANCA anchors tag-team the government_. It’s by an anti-big government libertarian blogger.”

“Jesus.”

“I know right!” He laughed. “Hey,” his voice was lowered. “Those rumours are true, aren’t they?”

“What makes you say that?” Callie asked. The elevator doors slid open and they stepped out.

“I called Addison last night and asked.” Mark and Addison met when Derek was dating her. They may have hooked up behind Derek’s back once, twice… maybe more than that.

“What?” Callie looked at him. “So you just picked up your phone and rang Addison, who is busy running a multimedia news website, to ask about my personal life? I didn’t even know you guys kept in touch.”

“We’re good friends,” Mark said proudly. “Anyway, she confirmed it for me, and apparently you and Arizona were serious. Like, you’d go all dazed and confused every time you talked about her. Until you guys split up, of course. Then you’d spit her name out bitterly, according to Addie. That’s love, I suppose.”

They entered the bullpen. “I expect you to keep your voice down,” Callie muttered to him.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m satisfied with all the information I got.” A grin remained plastered to his face. “I’m going to see if Derek’s in so I can show him what I found online.” He scampered off to the direction of his friend’s office.

Whoever was in the bullpen at that time of the morning - very few of them - was already watching Callie. “What is it?” she demanded irritably. That’s when she noticed that April Kepner, admittedly her favourite AP, was shooting nervous glances at her office door. She approached the redhead, who tensed up in an effort not to recoil. Or scream. “April,” she growled. “What’s going on there?”

“W-well, uhm,” April began to stammer, “Arizona- She’s in your office.”

“Fuck.” She placed her hands on her hips. The staff looked at her in a mixture of shock and fearful anticipation. “Is there any way I can leave the bullpen without her knowing I already got here?”

“Well,” April’s eyes moved from Callie to her office window. “She’s peeking through your blinds, so I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“She is?” Callie looked at the glass wall of her office, and sure enough, a pair of startling blue eyes were visible in between the blinds. “Goddammit. I guess I should go in there, shouldn’t I?” she asked April.

The redheaded AP nodded. “That might be the best course of action.”

“All right.” Callie took a deep breath. Braced herself. She nodded at April and took the steps towards her office door. She opened it and stepped inside, making sure the door was shut behind her. Arizona was seated in the chair across from her desk. “Funny that.”

“Sorry?” The blonde looked at her curiously.

“I thought you’d be sitting in my chair,” Callie said. When Arizona gave her a weird look, she continued, “You know, because that’s what they do in the movies and all.”

“Oh, right.” Arizona chuckled. “I did some asking around, about where the… rumour came from.”

“It’s not a rumour when it’s the truth.” Callie settled in her executive office chair.

“But it’s a secret.”

Callie relented. “Yeah, that’s true,” she said. “The staff here are gossip hounds, I thought you’d have told them that to get them to warm up to you.”

“Calliope. Out of all the personal things I could tell them, why would I tell them that?” Arizona asked. “Especially when the secret involves an anchor who has been working here years longer than I have.”

“True that.” Callie nodded. “How did people find out then?”

“Cristina Yang.”

“What?”

“Alex told me. Cristina did her research on me.” The blonde opened the case of her tablet and pressed the screen a couple of times before sliding it towards Callie. It was a set of tabs, half with her name and half with the anchor’s name. “Putting the puzzle together is easier than it looks. She’d start with the Al Gore swing state cross-country tour, then connect us working in DC for different networks, and to me going to Lahore and you going to New York a year after. She might have asked Derek, who’s seeing her best friend Meredith, if he knew about us. And then she filled in the blanks with assumptions.”

Callie raised her hand. “Wait, backtrack. Derek Shepherd is seeing Meredith Grey?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They always stand so close to each other, and sometimes I see them gazing at each other.” Arizona flapped her hands aimlessly. “Anyway, yeah, it didn’t take Cristina too long to figure us out.”

Callie blanched at the use of the word ‘us’, but hope that Arizona wouldn’t notice anyway. “Didn’t take too long to spread among the staff either, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Yeah, it spread like wildfire, didn’t it?” Arizona asked.

“It did.” Callie nodded. “So, have you talked to Cristina about it?”

“Why?”

“Because doesn’t it need to be shut down? Don’t you want to shut it down?”

“It’s not going to hurt anybody if this story is out there,” Arizona said, a hint of an amused smile on her face. “These people disseminate information for a living. You can’t stop them from doing that.”

“I don’t care. I want it shut down,” Callie insisted.

“I promised Alex that I wouldn’t get Cristina in trouble, and I’m not gonna break that promise.”

Callie folded her arms. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you broke a promise.”

Arizona frowned. “Callie.”

“You accepted the job knowing that I was working here,” Callie said. “You thought I was going to crawl back to you? Well, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from the first time we saw each other,” Arizona responded evenly. “And yes, I accepted the job knowing that you were working here, but not because of that. I figured that it was time to come home. It’s been a long ten years.”

“Don’t I know it.”

“Are you gonna be mad at me forever?”

“Probably.”

The blonde stood up and straightened her shirt. “All right, Callie, have it your way,” she sighed. “Just so you know, I didn’t expect us to get back together, but I did expect us to be able to talk about it.” She placed her hand on the door handle.

“I’m going to talk to Cristina,” Callie said before Arizona could leave the room.

“Don’t do that,” Arizona said firmly. “Please. You’re saving both of us a whole tonne of problems by leaving it alone. As long as we don’t think it’s a big deal, they’ll forget about it. And,” she raised her chin slightly, “I don’t think it’s a big deal.”

“Okay.” Callie wished she could say the same. This woman broke her heart ten years ago, and she was still breaking it now.


	5. Flashback, Part II

**February 14, 2002, 11.05PM**

Working on Valentine's Day was just an inevitability that most professional couples had to face. But when your girlfriend didn't get off work until eleven at night, you would start to wish that it was a public holiday. No restaurants that sold expensive wine were open at that time of night, after all. At least, that was what Callie, along with another three romantic partners, were thinking as they waited in the corner of the BBC's newsroom in Washington DC.

Arizona walked into the newsroom, her expression almost instantly transforming from stressed to joyful. "Callie!" she exclaimed, skipping over to Callie and giving her a quick peck on the lips. "I'll just be another five minutes then we can head off, all right?"

"Sure, yeah, take your time," Callie said. But inside, she was fuming. The first Valentine celebration she had in years was not meant to turn out this way. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Cool!" Arizona said brightly, before skipping off somewhere else. "Hey, guys," Callie could hear her talking to her colleagues, her head jerking in Callie's direction. "Did you see my girlfriend over there? She's  _gorgeous_ , isn't she?"

"Callie Torres?" A man's voice asked from behind Callie.

She turned around. "Derek, hey!" she said brightly. Derek Shepherd was Addison's devastatingly handsome boyfriend - as if she would settle for anything less - who was the anchor for  _DC Tonight_ , BBC's late night show on American politics. Callie had only met him once before, at a small party that Addison threw in her apartment last summer. She knew from journalism circles that he was a ridiculously helpful guy, even to people who could be considered his rivals.

"What are you doing here?" Derek asked. "Can I help you with anything?"

"No, I'm okay, thanks." Callie shook her head. "I'm just waiting for my girlfriend."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "Oh, which one?"

"Arizona Robbins? She's an AP."

"Arizona? She's great. She won't be an AP for long." Derek smiled, then adjusted the strap of his satchel on his shoulder. "I'm off now, I still need to pick Addison up for our very belated Valentine's date. I trust that you're doing the same thing?"

"You got it."

"Well, I'll see you." Derek smiled, although he only used a single corner of his mouth, and Callie finally understood why people referred to him as McDreamy. "You have a good night now."

"All right. Bye," Callie said.

Arizona returned by her side, her coat on, backpack slung over one shoulder. "Let's go. I already called a cab for us."

"You had a good show tonight," Callie told her when they got in the cab. "I only caught the last fifteen minutes but it seemed great."

Arizona grinned. "I know right! We're all really proud of it. The package I produced for this show was in the B block though, so you wouldn't have seen it. But that's okay."

"B block? That's great. How come you didn't tell me?"

"They moved it up last minute," Arizona said. "And it's really not a huge deal."

"It's a deal, all right," Callie said proudly, despite her earlier irritation. "My girl's moving up in the world." She looked out the window. "Hang on, I thought we were going to Yechon." She and Arizona had found a list of 24-hour dining places in DC and decided on a Korean/Japanese barbecue restaurant. Arizona said she would take care of the reservations.

"Change of plans."

Callie squinted out the window until she discerned where they were going. "Back to your apartment? Seriously?" she asked. "Let me guess, we're also getting takeout delivered."

Arizona frowned. "Callie, just trust me on this, okay?"

They let themselves into Arizona's building and rode the elevator up to her floor. When they stood outside the door, Arizona fished a blindfold out of her backpack. "Put this on," she told Callie.

"What?" She glared at the offending item.

"Come on, Calliope, just humour me." She handed her the blindfold and watched as Callie put it on. "Can you see anything?"

"Nope."

"All right." And then there was the sound of Arizona's keys jangling, then the telltale clicks of bolts being unlocked. Callie felt Arizona's hand on the small of her back, carefully guiding her inside the apartment.

"Can I take this off now?" Callie asked as soon as she felt Arizona remove her hand.

"Yup."

The sight that greeted her was a fully set dinner table, a pristine table cloth and expensive silverware included. "Arizona." She stared at her girlfriend, simultaneously curious and in awe. "You didn't."

"Yes, I did," Arizona said proudly. "I set the table before I left for work this morning, and popped dinner in the crockpot you gave me for Christmas."

"Oh, you finally got around to using that thing?"

"It's useful for days like these." Arizona pulled a chair out for Callie. "Have a seat, I'll serve the food up."

Callie obliged. "What did you make?" she asked, as Arizona busied herself with plating the food.

"Slow cooked Cajun chicken stew over brown rice with salad on the side," Arizona said. A few minutes late, she returned with two identical plates. She set one in front of Callie, then one in front of her place at the table, before sitting down. "Check out the wine. Apparently it goes well with Cajun chicken."

Callie peered at the label. "1988 Napa Valley shiraz." She looked at the blonde. "This would have cost you a bomb. You shouldn't have."

"It's for a special occasion, and I had some extra money. Would you like a glass?"

"Let me have a few bites of this Cajun chicken first," Callie said. The first forkful she had was mindblowing. "Okay, Arizona, I didn't know that you could cook like this."

"I may have used some premixed spices," Arizona admitted, "but I added to it for more depth. Or something. I really don't know what I'm talking about."

"Well, it's amazing." Callie placed her hand on top of Arizona's. "Thank you." She reached inside her bag. "I have a gift for you." She pulled out box and slid it across the table.

Arizona's hands shook slightly as she opened the box. Inside was a sterling silver chain with a simple heart pendant. "Callie," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

Callie's heart fluttered at the amazed expression on her girlfriend's face. "I bought us matching ones," she told her. "I really wanted you to like it."

"I love it," Arizona said. "I love you."

Callie was speechless. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to find the words. "Really?"

"Yeah." The blonde was nodding happily. "I _love_  you, Calliope Torres."

At the sound of her name, Callie beamed. "I love you too, Arizona Robbins."

* * *

**August 2002, 6:30PM**

As she adjusted her dress in front of the bathroom mirror, Arizona felt the urgent need to vomit. She took two quick steps to the toilet bowl and attempted to do just that. Tonight was going to be a major first for her. She had never met any girl's parents before. She dry heaved a couple of times before rushing out into the living room to pick up her landline, dialling an all too familiar number. "Mom? Is Dad home?" she asked as soon as someone picked up on the other end.

"Arizona? Yes, your father is home. Is everything okay?" her mother asked worriedly.

"Yes, everything's fine." Normally, Arizona wouldn't be so straightforward with her parents, but Callie was picking her up in twenty minutes. "I need some girl advice, Mom, and I love you, but you're not the best at that," she said.

"Excuse me?"

Arizona didn't answer.

Her mother sighed. "All right, I'll go get your father, but I'll be listening in on the other line, because you may need my input more than you think," she told her. There was the sound of the mouthpiece being muffled with a hand, then: "Daniel! Arizona wants to speak to you!"

There were a few seconds of rustling around, to which Arizona tapped her foot impatiently to, until her father got on the phone. "Hey, sweetheart. Mom said you needed girl advice?" he sounded amused.

"Her _exact_  words, Daniel," her mother supplied.

"Mom!"

"What seems to be the problem? Are you and Callie fighting or something?" her father asked.

"No, Dad," Arizona said. "It's just that, it's Callie's birthday next week, but her family came to DC for the weekend to celebrate. And they invited me to dinner with them."

"You told me that you met her sister before," her mother said.

"Yeah, but not her _parents_. That's whole new territory, right there!"

"Callie seemed fine when she first met us," her father commented. "Maybe you're just overthinking it a little?"

"That's different," Arizona said, sighing. "Callie wasn't my girlfriend when she met you."

"I swear she was," her mother chimed in.

"Mom."

"All right, I'll shut up now," the older Robbins said. Arizona could hear her smile through the phone. "Honey, you're a smart, charming woman and everyone can see that you care about Callie. I think you just need to be you."

Grateful that they couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes. "What does that even mean?"

"Be who I raised you to be," her father said simply. "They'll love you, Arizona."

Arizona considered her father's words. "Okay, guys, I should go now," she told them. "Thanks for the attempt at giving advice. It was marginally helpful."

" _Marginally_?" her father asked, astounded.

"I don't know how what you guys said to me will help me tonight, but thanks for trying anyway."

"Glad we could help, honey," her father said. "Do call more often."

Her mother snorted. "Do  _visit_  more often."

"I will. Love you both. Bye!" She replaced the phone back in its dock. She inhaled slowly, preparing for a big breath. She just needs to be her. She just needs to be who her parents raised her to be. As soon as she exhaled, the nauseated feeling returned. Hands over her mouth, she ran to the bathroom as fast she could.

* * *

**7:15PM**

"You smell like mouthwash," Callie muttered into Arizona's ear, as they stepped into the foyer of the Italian restaurant her parents had picked out. "You're not going to kiss any of them, you know. At least, not in the way you kiss me."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "You're a little gross, Torres," she said. "And I may or may not have emptied the contents of my stomach before I came here."

"This is a _five-star_  restaurant!" Callie said, aghast. "Do you know what that means? It means that the portions are _tiny_."

"I couldn't help it, Calliope. I was nervous. I am nervous."

"Why? They're going to love you. Hell, they practically know you," Callie said. "I've told them so much about you already."

"That is really doing nothing to make me feel less nervous."

"Arizona." Callie placed both hands on her girlfriend's shoulders, and looked straight into her deep blue eyes. "You're great, you need to chill, and if all else fails, talk to Aria and Michael. They're old pros. They're going to know how to mediate the conversation between you and either of my parents. Now, let's go the table, they're waiting for us." Placing a guiding arm around Arizona's waist, she guided her to the table.

"And here's the birthday girl with Arizona!" her older sister, Aria, greeted them happily.

Callie's grip around Arizona's wait tightened a little as she watched her parents stand up to meet them. "Mom, Dad, this is Arizona Robbins, my girlfriend," she said. She looked at Arizona with reassuring, gentle eyes. "Arizona, these are my parents - my father, Carlos, and my mother, Lucia."

To their credit, Callie's parents greeted Arizona graciously and shook her hand. They took their seats at the dinner table.

"We took the liberty of ordering the finest chardonnay they have before you ladies arrived," her father said. "You do like chardonnay, don't you, Arizona?"

Callie knew that Arizona preferred a red wine, but the blonde answered politely: "Of course. Yes, chardonnay's great." She even had the smile turned up to maximum wattage! Arizona was the first girlfriend Callie had ever introduced to her family, and Callie desperately hoped that her parents would warm up to her, because she wanted her to be the only one.

* * *

**8:00PM**

The wait staff had cleared away the plates from their entree. As they looked over the menus to select their mains, Lucia Torres spoke up from the end of the table: "Arizona, I see that your wine glass is empty. Would you like some more?"

Arizona smiled. "No, thank you," she said. "I think I'll just have water. I have to go into work tomorrow." A white lie, but she didn't want her girlfriend's parents to think that she was liked to drink. What kind of first impression was that?

"Ah yes." Carlos Torres looked over the top of his menu, his brown eyes sparkling cheerfully, not unlike the way Callie's did. Callie had told her that her father had been more receptive of her sexuality than her mother, so he was going to seem a bit overeager to be nice to Arizona. "Our Calliope tells us that you're a journalist, too, but not a reporter, is that right?"

"Yes, I'm a producer."

Aria leaned forward. "Arizona works for the BBC, on that show hosted by Derek Shepherd." She tapped her husband on the leg. "What's it called again, Mike?"

" _DC Tonight_ ," Michael answered.

"Is that so?" Lucia appeared intrigued. "What do you do for them?"

"I write scripts for segments on the show mostly, but I also interview people beforehand and brief them if Derek has asked them to appear on air, and sometimes I have to go out and shoot footage with a reporter," Arizona explained.

"Arizona does the grunt work behind the scenes. We reporters just talk and look pretty," Callie said proudly.

"Oh, it's not like that." Arizona waved her girlfriend off, but gazed at her fondly anyway. The chardonnay had numbed the nerves a little so she was able to properly see how beautiful Callie looked tonight. "You work at the White House. You don't have producers to tell you what to say, you just say things and you do a good job of doing it."

Callie nudged her lightly. She was beaming. "Don't make me blush, now," she said. She turned to the others at the table. "Excuse me, I just need to freshen up. Don't order without me!" She got up and left.

Arizona looked blankly at the two other couples seated at the table. An urge deep inside her told her to follow her girlfriend. However, the possibility of Callie needing to leave her at any point during the night was something she wasn't entertained. Plus, she was a big girl now. She could handle five minutes tops with her girlfriend's family, right?

"Are you sure you don't want more wine, Arizona?" Lucia was examining her face curiously. Her hand was on the bottle, ready to pass it to her if she said yes.

"I'm sure. Thank you for offering again, though," Arizona replied.

Lucia removed her hand from the bottle. "All right. Let me be honest with you." She leaned in closer to Arizona. At this, Carlos, Aria and Michael froze. Arizona could feel herself wanting to freeze, too. "Callie told us that she was bisexual in her last year of college, and I never understood it," Lucia told her in a low voice. "I asked myself, why would someone want to complicate their life like that? But then Callie told us that she met you. And then we met you. I finally understand."

She sighed. "Calliope's never played it safe her entire life, and hiding who she is from us is playing it safe. It would mean she never would have met someone who makes her smile like you do." She smiled at Arizona, and Arizona saw a hint of affection in it. "And for that, you can have another glass of wine without me thinking you're a drunk."

Arizona pushed her wine glass towards Lucia, who picked up the bottle and poured the wine. "If the system sorts itself out and acknowledges your love for each other, I want grandchildren," she said. The rest of the table visibly relaxed.

"Lucia," Carlos chuckled, "I've already told Calliope about that."

"Right," Lucia said. Her eyes met Arizona's again. "I'm just telling you this so we're clear, yes?"

"Clear on what?" Callie had returned. "Are you guys picking on my girlfriend? Mom?"

"We weren't. Promise," Lucia said. When Callie turned to her father for confirmation, she winked at Arizona. "Shall I call over the waiter so we can order our mains?"

* * *

**11:45PM**

Callie had gone back to Arizona's apartment after her birthday dinner. She was very pleased that her mother seemed to like Arizona. She had to wonder how the blonde did it. "What did you say to my mother? Did you give her a woman-to-woman talk?" she asked as she washed her face in the bathroom.

"Nope. We just clicked, I suppose," Arizona responded vaguely from the bedroom.

Callie exited the bathroom, patting her face dry with a towel. "In any case, I'm glad that you and her get along," she said. "She freaked out when I told her about me being bi, and she didn't talk to me until I had finished J school." She removed the towel from her face. "Holy cow."

Lying on top of the covers, stark naked except for a pair of glasses, was Arizona. She was apparently reading something on her laptop, but the sly smile on her face showed that it was nothing more than a prop. "What's up, Calliope?"

Callie sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch Arizona. It wasn't because she thought the blonde was explosive. She was afraid that if she did, she was going to explode herself. "Nothing," she said. "It just looks as if my birthday has come early, with you charming my parents, especially my mother and-"

" _Calliope_." Arizona's voice was low and breathy. "Stop talking about your mother." She shut her laptop lid and reached over the slide it under her bed.

Callie's breath hitched at the view of the blonde's backside. Arizona did have a fantastic ass.

Arizona turned around to face her again. "Well?" She raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Take your clothes off, birthday girl."

Nodding eagerly, Callie hurriedly obliged.

* * *

**April 2003, 7:00AM**

She and Callie have been been together for well over a year - they've been living together for four months - and she was definitely her  _person_. She wanted to share all her good news with Callie. Yet for this particular piece of news from an email she read last night, Arizona thought it would be better to share it with someone else first: her brother Timothy. To her luck, it was their prearranged video conference date early the next morning. Which was why she was seated in the dining room of her apartment early in the morning, peering into her laptop screen.

"'Zona, you there?" Timothy's face came on the screen. Unlike Arizona, his hair was a sandy blonde, closer to their father's hair colour, but his eyes were the same shade of blue. He appeared as if he hadn't had a shave in a while, but his dimples were still prominent underneath the facial hair.

"Hey Timmy, how are you going?"

"I'm good. Quiet day here, we're mostly cleaning out all our stuff. And by cleaning, I mean burning. Thanks for video chatting with me," Timothy said. "I realise that it's like, the crack of dawn over there."

"Not exactly." Arizona laughed. "It's a few hours past that."

"Right." He laughed too. "How are you going, sis?"

"Great," she said. "I have some news for you, actually."

"What's that?"

Arizona craned her neck to look at her bedroom door, which was still firmly closed. She lowered her voice anyway. "The BBC offered me a job as a producer in Lahore. If I accept it, I start in October."

"Lahore, as in Pakistan?" Timothy clarified.

"Yeah," Arizona said. "They're expanding the bureau over there because the war's expanding, too, so they're going to need a lot more hands on deck."

"It's dangerous out here, Arizona, trust me."

"You don't think I know that, when I spend most days worrying about you?" Arizona asked him. "Look, I don't plan to be out in the war zone. It's a desk job."

"We all know things like that go down the toilet real quickly when it comes to war." Arizona knew that he was referring to the assumption that the War on Terror would be quick and bloodless. How quickly that was in tatters.

Arizona broke eye contact with him. "I don't even know if I'm taking the job yet."

"Yeah? You're going to talk to Callie about it first, right? And Mom and Dad, too."

"I haven't told Callie yet," Arizona admitted.

"What?" Timothy demanded. "I thought she was  _the one_  or whatever. This is a decision you need to be consulting her about."

"Says someone who's never been in a serious relationship before."

"Neither have you," her brother retorted. "Until Callie. She's your exception. That's why you have to tell her!"

Arizona folded her arms. "You sound like a romantic comedy, Timothy, I think the homesickness is getting to your head." Okay, she was being immature, but she was not ready for the conversation about the conversation she eventually had to have with Callie.

"Shut up. _Tell her_."

"Tell me what?" A voice asked from the direction of the bedroom.

Arizona froze as Callie walked over to the dining table. "Nothing."

Callie snorted as she stood behind Arizona and leaned forward so that she was on camera. "Hey Tim, how's Kabul?" she asked cheerfully. She had met Timothy when he was fortunate enough to get a ten-day furlough over Thanksgiving last year. To Arizona's delight, they got along supremely well.

"Callie." Timothy grinned. "I don't think it's as bad as being stuck with my sister."

"Don't be like that," Callie said, laughing as she watched Arizona pout. "Your sister is delightful."

"Pfft. Yeah right."

"I don't appreciate you two making fun of me in front of me," Arizona said.

"Aw, babe." Callie stroked Arizona's hair. "It's just something you have to get used to."

"You're planning to stay for a long while, aren't you, Callie?" Timothy asked her, even though his eyes were trained on Arizona. Not that Callie noticed that.

"Definitely." Callie was telling the truth. Her hands brushed lightly over Arizona's shoulder. "If your sister will have me, of course." She kissed the top of Arizona's head happily. "I'm going to get changed for the gym. It was nice talking to you, Tim."

"You too, Callie." Timothy gave her a half-wave, half-salute.

Callie gave Arizona's head another kiss before walking to the bedroom. When the bedroom door shut, Arizona gave her brother a look. "Goddammit, Timothy. You would be in so much shit if you were here," she muttered.

"Tell her soon," was all Timothy said.

In true Arizona Robbins fashion, _soon_  came three months later.

* * *

**July 2003, 8.00PM**

Addison Montgomery, whose career as a freelance journalist flourished, thanks to her ability to establish useful connections, found a slot in her busy schedule to have drinks with an old friend - and she had news.

"Wow." Callie examined the shiny ring on the redhead's finger. "This is gorgeous."

"It's a family heirloom. Derek's grandmother owned it and bequeathed it to him in her will," Addison explained with a presumably aloof shrug. Her fond gaze at the ring didn't escape Callie, though.

"Wow," Callie repeated. "Look at you, the future Mrs Shepherd. Getting your life together, huh."

Addison chuckled. "I'm actually thinking of keeping my last name. Professionally, at least," she said. She patted Callie on the arm. "But what about  _you_? You're in a serious relationship, you're living in a swanky apartment, you've been promoted to senior White House correspondent for HANCA… things are going well for you too."

"Well, the swanky apartment is owned by Arizona's parents. They bought it because when the Colonel did a stint at the Pentagon he didn't want to keep living in hotels during the weekdays. We just pay utilities for it," Callie told her. "And Arizona got transferred from the ten o'clock team to the  _BBC World News America_  team, so our work schedules almost sync up. So I guess you were right, things are going well for me, but maybe I'm just lucky."

"God, you still get that same goofy look on your face whenever you talk about her."

"Goofy?" Callie frowned.

"It's a good thing, don't worry!" Addison told her. "It's just that, I haven't seen you often since we were on the press bus, but every time you bring Arizona up, you smile like nobody's business."

"I can't help it." Callie looked down timidly. "I've never loved someone this much before."

"Yeah, you guys are pretty solid," Addison said. "But you're still going to miss her when she goes to Pakistan, right?"

Callie swallowed. "What do you mean? She's going to Pakistan?"

"She hasn't told you?" Addison took a long sip of her drink. "Shit."

"Addie." Callie's voice was stern. "You need to tell me, because she obviously hasn't."

"I can't believe she hasn't told you." Addison looked around nervously. "Derek told me a while ago that Arizona got offered a transfer to the Lahore bureau. It's a two-year contract, apparently."

"Did she accept?" Two years with Arizona being off in a conflict zone? Callie didn't think she'd survive it. "Come on, Addie. I didn't have access to this information!"

"As far as Derek knows, not yet," Addison responded. "But she must be deciding soon, because the contract starts in October."

"All right. Good." Callie started shuffling in her purse for some dollar bills. "I'm going to go home and talk to her. I think this is a decision that I should have input on."

"She probably had a good reason for not telling you," Addison said weakly.

"Bullshit," Callie said. "I'll call you soon, Addie. Thanks for tonight." She threw the bills on the table, gathered her things and left.

* * *

Arizona was on their bed, doing some work on her laptop, when she heard the front door swing open. "You're home early!" she called out. Her girlfriend was there almost immediately, shoes on and everything. "I didn't expect you back until around eleven." Arizona tried to hold herself as casually as she could, but she couldn't resist showing off her summer "work from home" outfit to Callie - a tank top and boyshorts which hugged her ass perfectly. But then she noticed the grim look on Callie's face. "Is everything all right?"

"Addison told me that Derek told her that," Callie took a deep breath, "you were offered a two-year contract to work at the Lahore bureau. Is this true?"

Shit. Arizona felt lightheaded. She was meaning to tell Callie about it, but she didn't expect her to find out this way. "Yes." She should have listened to Tim that morning.

Callie's next question was said in a dangerously quiet voice. "How long have you been keeping this from me?"

"I got the offer in April," Arizona admitted.

"April." Callie looked like she had just been punched in the gut. She blinked rapidly. "And when were you planning to tell me?"

"Soon." Arizona watched Callie's expression morph from sadness to rage. "Calliope, I realise I should have told you earlier."

" _No shit_ , Sherlock. You should have told me as soon as you got the offer!" Callie said indignantly. "You're potentially moving halfway across the world for two years and you thought that wasn't something that you should share with someone you're in a serious relationship with? Or maybe I'm not that important to you."

"Of course you are!"

"Then don't you think that this is something the two of us should discuss? I have tonnes of questions! If you're taking the offer, what happens to me for two years? Am I still living here? Are you going to help me out in paying the bills? How often are you going to visit? Can I visit you there?"

Arizona stared at Callie before calmly answering, "I took the offer. I'm leaving in November, after my birthday. You can still live here if you want and you can email me if you need any help in paying the bills so I can wire the money over. You probably won't be able to visit me, but I do have three weeks annual leave, which we will spend together."

"You're really leaving?" Callie's shoulders slumped. "We don't get a chance to talk about this?"

"We're talking about it now," Arizona said. She wanted to hug her girlfriend so badly, but she restrained herself. "And we can talk about it all night if we have to."

"No." Callie's voice was defiant. She strode to the wardrobe and pulled out an overnight bag, which she stuffed a selection of clothing into. She disappeared, presumably to go into the bathroom, where Arizona could hear her gathering her toiletries. She stormed back into the room, zipping the bag up as she went. "We will talk about it, but not tonight."

"Where are you going?" Arizona asked helplessly.

"I'm going to check myself into my dad's hotel," Callie replied. "I might stay there for a few nights because I'm just so mad at you right now. But we will talk. I just- I just need to go." She left the room, making a beeline for the apartment door.

"Calliope, wait." Arizona ran out of the bedroom to follow her. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

"Arizona." Callie smiled as best as she could at Arizona, though her eyes shone through the tears that have welled up. "I love you too. But I don't want to be near you right now, okay?" She turned the doorknob, opened the door and left Arizona standing in the living room, staring at her retreating back through the doorway.

"I'll wait for you, Calliope. I promise."

* * *

It took Callie three nights before she decided that she was ready to face Arizona again. To face their future - or lack of one - together. She didn't know what awaited her when she returned to the apartment though. She refused to answer Arizona's phone calls, text messages and emails, so she didn't know if the blonde would have reached the end of her rope waiting for her.

When her key still fit in the lock of the apartment's deadbolt, she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding, expelling an ugly inkling she only realised she had. Her relief, however, was short-lived.

The entire apartment was empty. It looked like the kitchen hadn't been touched for days. There were no containers in the fridge. Callie checked the bathroom and noticed that Arizona's toiletries were missing. Finally, she went into the bedroom. There was a note on the bed.

_Callie,_

_I've been so used to living with you that when you left, I couldn't handle being alone in this apartment. I don't know when you're coming back, but I called my mother the morning I woke up by myself and she asked me to come to Quantico so we could talk about my job transfer, among other things. I will be staying here until the end of the week because I got time off work. If you get here before I do, please wait for me. I want to talk. If I get here before you do… then you probably won't be reading this note._

_Just so you know, I've always wanted to be transferred overseas. It's a great move career wise, and I've expressed interest for a Middle East transfer before I realised we were serious. Being completely in love with you is just going to make the move to Lahore more difficult._

_My feelings for you haven't changed. I hope you could say the same about your feelings for me._

_Love always,_   
_Arizona_

Callie crumpled the note up into a ball. Wiping hot, angry tears from her face, she grabbed more clothes from her wardrobe and stuffed them in her bag, purposely leaving the used garments in the clothes hamper by the dresser. She scribbled a terse note to Arizona and left it on the kitchen counter, along with her keys, before stepping out the door again. She made arrangements to stay at the hotel indefinitely.


	6. Another Spanner in the Works

**Sunday, 10:00PM**

The blonde pushed her way through the crowd of women to the bar, where the pink-haired bartender waited expectantly for her request. "Whisky and cola. One ice cube," she yelled over the noise. Taking one final step, she managed to find an empty bar stool.

"You need to put down more money for your tab, by the way," the bartender told her, as she slid the glass across. "Or maybe you should just stop buying girls a drink, and let them buy drinks for you." She smirked.

The blonde laughed. "I'm honourable!" She raised her glass to the bartender and took a sip of her drink. She smiled. Just the way she liked it.

A tall, attractive woman with straight, dark blonde hair walked up right beside her, speaking a breathy question in her ear. "I don't see you around here often," she said.

"I could say the same about you."

"Well, admittedly I don't usually come here on Sundays."

"Neither do I."

The taller woman stared at her curiously. "So why don't I see you around on all the other nights?"

The blonde sipped from her glass. "Maybe we just keep missing each other," she replied. "Also, I'm new in town."

"How new?" The taller woman inched closer to her.

"Not even a month ago."

"Where were you before that?"

"London."

The taller woman smiled, impressed. "You don't have a British accent, though."

"I'm American," the blonde responded, shrugging. "Just haven't been Stateside in ten years."

"Wow, I'm running into an explorer. What's your name?"

"Arizona. And I'm a journalist, not an explorer. What's your name?"

"I'm Lauren." She was close enough that she could put both hands on the counter. "Arizona the journalist," she drawled. "That sounds like a fake name and a fake story." She shrugged. "I don't really care, though. I'd buy you a drink if I didn't see that you already had one."

"Really?" Arizona raised the glass to her lips and finished the whisky in one gulp, then slammed the glass down on the table. She gave the other blonde a challenging look. "What drink?"

* * *

**11.00PM**

In his Manhattan apartment, Mark swilled the last of the beer in his bottle before finishing it. "Hey Torres, want to crack open another one for me while you're at it?" he asked over his shoulder.

He had called Callie over earlier that evening for a movie night. He even paid for their pizza and beer. Now, Callie was fussing around in the kitchen making more popcorn before they set up a second movie.

"You sure you don't want some water first?" Callie asked. But she opened a bottle of beer anyway.

"Are you kidding?" Mark scoffed. "I have the alcohol tolerance of a Scot." He patted his stomach.

"And all the ego and the beer gut of a frat boy." Callie walked back to the couch, cradling a bowl of popcorn in one hand. She glared at Mark, who was examining his exposed belly. "Ew, Sloan, put your shirt back down, _no one_  wants to see that."

A smirk appeared on Mark's face. "I know plenty who do." He accepted the beer and drank it. "Can I ask you a question, Callie?"

"If it's not about your beer gut, sure."

"That time after we first met, we slept together," Mark said slowly. "That was ten years ago."

Callie frowned. "Mark- "

Mark cut her off. "No, I just want to know. Did you do it because you were still smarting over Arizona leaving you?"

"She didn't _leave_  me," Callie corrected. "We split up because she was leaving."

"So…" Mark's eyebrows knitted, "she left you."

Callie shook her head sadly. "I don't remember it being as simple as that."

Mark shrugged. "It probably was, Cal."

Callie considered this and nodded slowly. "Well then, I suppose I did sleep with you as a rebound."

"Ouch." Mark clasped his chest in mock hurt. "You know how to break a heart."

"Oh, I've learnt from experience," Callie said with a nonchalant shrug.

Mark watched her face. "I've never known you to be bitter."

"When it comes to Arizona, I'm the most bitter bitch alive. Massachusetts legalised same-sex marriage in May 2004, you know," Callie said. "Arizona left like six months before that, but I thought of her when it happened. Planned it in my head. Would have been a fall wedding. Boston's pretty in the fall," she finished wistfully.

"But if you got married then, you wouldn't have me as your best man," Mark joked.

Callie shoved him lightly. "We only became friends because you were good rebound sex, anyway," she said. "Also, you were the only person I knew in New York when I moved, so I had to stick to you."

"Really? I thought it was because of my personality."

"Yeah, you were sleeping with half the producers. The woman half. Real charming."

"I'm the Golden Boy, what can I say?" Mark said proudly. His face softened momentarily. "For the record, Boston is  _gorgeous_  in the fall."

"I know." Callie sighed. "I read all the wedding magazine articles about it."

Noticing that his friend was about to reminisce whatever pain she had gone through ten years ago, Mark leaned over to grab the remote from the coffee table. "Hey, let's the start the movie?" he suggested.

"Okay, sure."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

**Monday, 8:45AM**

Because her newly bought curtains blocked the sun, Arizona did not wake up as early as she usually did. In fact, she only started to come to when she heard movement and someone muttering, "Shit, shit, shit," under their breath.

She opened her eyes and stared at the frantic woman who was jumping back into her wrinkled clothes. For a moment, she struggled to remember her name. "L-Lauren!" she said, almost triumphantly. "What are you doing up so early?"

"So  _early_?" Lauren looked at her in disbelief."It's almost nine o'clock. What time do you have to go to work?"

"Not until midday," Arizona said, shrugging.

"Well, I start at nine, but my boss likes it when I'm there at eight-thirty, so I'm screwed," Lauren said. She slumped her shoulders. "I'm going to show up to work in clothes from last night. And I'm so freaking tired!"

Arizona nodded contemplatively. "I do have that effect on people."

"You're real charming, but now's not the time for that," Lauren snapped.

"All right," Arizona said, pretending she wasn't taken aback by that. She got out of bed and pulled a pair of boyshorts and a loose t-shirt over her naked body, relishing the way the other woman's eyes ran up and down her body as she did so. "I've got some clothes that might fit you. What are you after today?" She stood by her wardrobe, hand poised.

"Black pants, white shirt and maybe a navy blazer if you've got one?" the blonde asked hopefully. "I've got a public engagement to go to."

Arizona squinted at her clothes before pulling out the items. "Would these do?" She presented them to Lauren. "I'd lend you my suit but it's tailored for me so it would look a little odd if you wore it. And you know, dry cleaning."

"Understandable," Lauren said. "And these'll do, thanks." She took the clothes and ran into the bathroom to change.

Staring at the locked bathroom door, Arizona sat back down on her bed, wondering why she was being nice to a virtual stranger. She chalked it up to her age. She didn't used to be this nice to her one night stands when she wasn't pushing forty. Timothy would be so ashamed of her.

Lauren emerged from the bathroom fully dressed. She looked bizarrely comfortable in Arizona's clothing. "Well, I'm off now," she said. "And yes, I've already texted my boss telling her that I'm going to be held up. How do you want me to return these clothes?"

"I haven't thought about that, actually." The blonde stood up and reached for the stack of business cards inside her work satchel. "Here are my details. We can work something out."

The other woman's fingers curled around the card suspiciously. "Are you sure this isn't your way of getting a proper date out of me?" she asked.

Arizona laughed. "I'm not interested in that." She caught herself. "I mean, you're really hot and last night was great, but I don't think I wanna see anyone like that. That's just a hundred-fifty dollar blazer that you're wearing and I'd like it back."

"Right, right, Arizona." Lauren laughed too. "I understand." She placed the business card carefully in her wallet. "I'll call you soon. For the clothes. But now I really have to go."

"Yeah, yeah, go!" Arizona said, waving her to the door. When Lauren shut the door on the other side, Arizona walked back to her bedroom and flopped down on her bed. That was one of the weirdest exchanges she ever had with a woman.

* * *

**4:00PM**

"Hey, Cristina, what are you up to?" Callie strode over to the nine o'clock's associate producer's desk. Because of her work hours, Callie had a social life that was limited to people in the newsroom. Which meant she was friends with Cristina. Which meant it wasn't weird for her to come up and talk to her in the middle of a work day.

Cristina looked up from her screen with a glare. "What's up, Callie?" Okay, maybe they were just  _kind of_  friends. "Wait," Cristina lifted a finger, "you were going to ask me about Robbins, aren't you?"

"N-no!" Callie stammered. "Why would I be asking that?"

"Arizona already talked to me about it," Cristina said, waving dismissively. "I'm not going to run off and sell the exclusive to  _Us Weekly_ , you're not _that_  important. Consider my mouth shut."

Callie was opening her mouth to reply, but a sharp voice cut through the air: "Cristina, aren't you supposed to be working on that story on the military commissaries?"

The two women turned around to watch Bailey coming towards them, a folder tucked under an arm. She stopped in front of Callie, disregarding the large height difference between them. "And aren't _you_  supposed to be working with _your_  team for  _your_  show tonight?"

"But it's such a tragic rundown! I'm taking a breather." Callie slumped her shoulders. Bailey's authoritative persona reduced her to childish antics oftentimes.

Cristina's eyes shifted from Bailey to Callie. "Yeah? What's on tonight?"

"Attacks in the Middle East, follow-up on that Bangladeshi clothing factory collapse, more GOP politicians talking about the shutdown as if it was the  _Dems_  who threw their toys out of the cot because of the ACA- "

"Enough!" Bailey interrupted. "Torres, go work with your own team and stop distracting mine. Yang, get that story done, it goes to air tonight or it won't be me wanting your head on the platter." She glanced at Callie, so quickly that the taller woman wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking at Bailey. "It'd be Arizona." She walked away.

"What would I be doing?" the blonde called from across the room, hands on her hips.

Bailey turned around midstep to face her EP. "Nothing," she said quickly. "I was just reminding Cristina to get a move on with that commissary story."

A smile spread over Arizona's face, although Callie noticed that it was aimed at no one in particular. "Yes, the commissary story," she said. "Don't mess that up, Cristina. Perhaps you want to stop having girl talk with Callie for a little bit." She disappeared into her office.

Meredith had walked over, witnessing the entire exchange. "I've never seen someone look so perky while being intimidating." She picked up a spearmint from Cristina's desk, unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth.

Completely disregarding Callie's presence, Cristina shared a conspiratorial look with her best friend. "Hell, she probably got laid."

* * *

**7:45PM**

A sharp beeping noise was heard throughout the bullpen.

Shane, who was assigned at the newsdesk for the evening, looked up from the magazine he was reading. The screen was flashing red. Alarmed, he clicked on the headline. "Guys." His eyes travelled quickly down the report. "Guys," he repeated, a little louder. Heads raised to look at him. "I think someone should take this to Owen before the show starts."

"What is it?" Leah asked, approaching him with a curious expression.

"North Korea just put their army on alert," Shane said. "It's on Reuters."

"What?" Teddy slowed down from rushing around the bullpen as she got everything ready for tonight's show. "What do you mean North Korea has put their army on alert?" she demanded.

Shane turned his eyes back to the screen. " _A spokesman for the North's military warned the United States of 'disastrous consequences' for moving a group of ships, including an aircraft carrier into a South Korean port_ ," he read out loud.

"I hate it when stuff like this happens right before a show." Teddy sighed.

"Do you think it's a legitimate threat?" Leah asked her.

"Probably not. Their bark has been worse than their bite."

"I think we still need to see it as a credible threat, though," Shane said. "We don't even know what kind of weaponry they've got out there. We shouldn't treat them like the boy who cried wolf."

Leah folded her arms and chuckled. "Aren't you the foreign policy expert now, Shane?"

The man merely stared at her.

Teddy shrugged. "Print that out, I'll take it to Owen now."

Shane jabbed a key and the printer next to the news desk regurgitated a freshly inked sheet of paper. Teddy grabbed it. "Good work," she told Shane. "We'll have to vamp this at the top of A block as breaking news. Leah, please tell Callie and Mark to get to the studio as quickly as possible so we can brief them?" She was already halfway to the corridor leading to the control rooms.

Leah rushed off to the dressing room to inform Callie and Mark of the new development.

* * *

**8:00PM**

"And roll in."

Mark shuffled his papers one last time before looking up at the camera. "Good evening. I'm Mark Sloan."

"And I'm Callie Torres. You're watching _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_. Tonight, we begin the show with breaking news. North Korea's army has been put on high alert as a response to what it sees as provocations from the United States and South Korea…"

In the control room, Owen was concentrating on the screens in front of him when someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and covered his mouthpiece with a hand. "What's up, Meredith?"

"I just thought I'd let you know that John Boehner just agreed to come on for an interview on Thursday night," Meredith told him, her voice laced with barely contained triumph.

"Thursday?"

"That's the only day he can do," Meredith said. "I think he's going on _The O'Reilly Factor_  before heading straight to us."

Owen's brows knitted in confusion. "Wait, he's live crossing from the DC bureau?"

Meredith shook her head. "He's coming here. Live."

"How did you-?" But the EP paused as he noticed that Callie had finished the North Korea report. "Meredith, sorry, we'll talk about this in tomorrow's rundown meeting," he said. "Well done, though."

"Okay, cool. Sorry for interrupting you, by the way." With a wave and a smile, she left the room.

* * *

**Tuesday, 11.00PM**

Working in the news was an unusual job. For most of the year, it's a hard slog to come up with material to fill forty minutes of a show. But for busy news periods, journalists have to work twice as hard to produce stories in the same amount of time. The government shutdown had resulted in one of these busy periods.

Arizona just about staggered to her apartment door. The episode tonight wasn't particularly busy, but the rest of the week will be, with more and more services shutting down, and the debt ceiling decision looming. She was about to insert her key when her shoe nudged a neatly wrapped parcel left by her door. Since her building entry was electronic only, she found this odd. She picked the parcel up turned it in her hands. There was a note attached on the package. She gingerly unfolded it and read the loopy script.

_Arizona,_

_So your story about being a journalist in London checks out, since I realised that the cellphone number on there was a UK number. I took the liberty of having your clothes washed, dried and ironed. I even got them to use hypoallergenic products just in case._

_I really enjoyed the other night. Despite what you said about not wanting anything further, I hope I can see you again soon._

_Lauren_

The woman had written her cellphone number neatly underneath her signature. It wasn't the first time one of Arizona's one night stands wanted a first date, so Arizona knew better. She placed the note in her jacket pocket, making a mental note to put in the recycling bin later.

* * *

**Wednesday, 1:00PM**

Owen addressed the room of APs in front of him. "Okay, Meredith has some news for us."

"Boehner? We  _already_  know," Leah said.

"She wouldn't stop talking about it," Stephanie supplied, glaring at Meredith. "Like, come on, Grey, you're a booker, you were only doing your job."

"Stephanie," Callie warned. "Come on, this is going to be a great show. Act excited!"

"How did you manage to get that interview anyway, Mer?" Mark asked.

Meredith's response was hesitant. "I told Boehner's staff that my mother was Ellis Grey." An award-winning print journalist and a trailblazer for her time, Meredith's mother had worked in DC during Boehner's rise up the ranks of the Republican Party. Her daughter entered journalism with very big shoes to fill.

Stephanie snorted. Leah did, too, but a glare from Callie shut her down.

When he was sure there weren't going to be any more snide remarks, Owen continued, "Boehner's coming on Thursday. In _this_  studio. We want it to be a good interview, so we need to start prepping. Now, you all know that I usually assign Teddy on big things like this, but she and I have decided to give one of the APs a shot. It's a given that Meredith will have to work with them too since she's prepping Boehner before the show." Owen gave the surprised-looking blonde an acknowledging nod. "So, who else wants to work with Callie and Mark on this?"

All of the other APs raised their hand.

Owen knew he couldn't decide without attracting the ire of whoever wasn't chosen, so he turned to the anchors. "You guys wanna pick?"

Mark and Callie made eye contact for a few seconds, before turning back to the rest of the staff in the meeting room. "April," they said in unison. She was the perfect foil to Meredith and would be more likely to acquiesce to their way of doing things.

The redhead smiled. For once, she was oblivious to the disparaging looks from her colleagues.

* * *

**1:30PM**

The people who knew Arizona well could say that she had some issues with authority. They weren't enough to keep her from being cheeky with her work from time to time, but they were enough to make her anxious as she sat in the executive dining lounge of the Harper Avery Media Tower, Richard Webber sitting across from her. The older man was jovially tucking into an open steak sandwich while Arizona fiddled with her grilled lamb.

"That thing isn't going to eat itself," Webber remarked.

Arizona's hand paused. "Sorry, Chief," she said hastily. "I was just wondering why you asked me to come up here to have lunch with you."

"I just wanted to tell you what a good job you've been doing with  _America in Focus_ ," Webber said cheerfully. "Finally - a decent current affairs programme on my screen, five nights a week!"

"Decent, huh? I'm glad you think so," Arizona said.

Webber leaned forward. "I know that Derek can be difficult to work with at times, but I'm glad that you and him have a good relationship."

"Yeah, Derek was a mentor to me back when we were at the BBC together." She paused. "Wait, weren't you his EP when he first started on _America in Focus_?"

"That's correct."

"What happened?"

"Look, Arizona, I love being in the bullpen so much. Would really rather do it than do this." Webber gestured at the upscale dining lounge. "But Derek and I clashed so much I actually gunned for this promotion just to never see the inside of a control room with his stupidly good-looking face on the screen ever again." He finished with a laugh.

"Right…" Arizona chuckled nervously. "I'm just glad that you're happy with the work I'm trying to do with the show, Chief. And I assure you, Derek is a little diva, but I got him under control."

"I couldn't be happier with the job that you're doing. The ratings are good, the feedback is good, people are saying that Derek Shepherd is back! The APs seem to think highly of you as well. Alex Karev, in particular."

Arizona sat up a little straighter. "Oh, he's a bright one."

"The kid has raw talent, but Stark always thought he was a bad hire."

"I can understand why he wouldn't get on with Stark, though. I'm surprised Derek did."

"Well, he got on with Stark better than he got on with me." He hummed whimsically after sipping from his glass of water. "Anyway, let's get down to business. I want  _America in Focus_  to do a panel on New York's stop and frisk law."

Arizona's fork stopped midway to her mouth. "Excuse me?"

"They ruled stop and frisk unconstitutional, but the election for the mayoralty is coming up and you know, some decisions may be at risk of reversal." Webber waved his hand in a vague direction.

"You know something I don't know."

"I'm well-connected," the older man retorted. "I can't tell you anything because it's not final, I just know that stop and frisk is going to come up as an issue, and I want HANCA to be right there from the beginning. Starting with a discussion panel. Come up with three or four other people you'd like to see talking about it, and make it happen."

"You expect it to be done that simply?" Arizona asked him, surprised.

"I gave you a brief, now I want you deliver above and beyond it." Webber smiled at her. "Don't worry, Arizona. I know that you'll deliver. Anyway, I have to get back to work." He dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. Make it happen," he repeated, before standing up and leaving the executive dining lounge.

With all the shutdown coverage she was trying to produce, this panel was just another spanner in the works. Arizona called the waiter over, holding in a slightly frustrated sigh. "Can I have a glass of your best red wine, please?" she asked. It wasn't something she usually did, especially with a rundown meeting coming up, but she felt like she needed to right now. "Charge it to Richard Webber's account."

The waiter smirked. "That's already been done, ma'am. A glass of red coming right up."

A minute later, a balloon-sized glass of red wine was placed in front of her. Arizona stared at it impressed, before reaching for her phone to send Bailey a text. Guess she would have to be late for the rundown meeting.

* * *

**6:00PM**

Inflated egos were rife in the news industry, and even the daughter of the great Ellis Grey - expected to be immune to ego - had enough of it sometimes. It wasn't that that she was never accused of having an ego herself. But Meredith Grey wasn't an anchor, nor was she planning to be. Anchors were the worst, second only to print journalists.

She stormed out of Mark Sloan's office, letting out an exasperated sigh as she walked across the bullpen, back to her desk. "Dunno how Kepner does it. I don't know how I even deal with it sometimes," she growled under her breath.

"Deal with what?" Alex's eyes flicked from his screen to Meredith. She stared at the receiver of his desk phone, which was cradled in between his head and left shoulder. "I'm on hold with the NYCLU's comms people," he explained. "What's up?"

"Two hours before the interview, and we still haven't decided on one angle to come after Boehner with," Meredith replied, sighing. "I guess I don't do it often enough, because I just realised that Callie and Mark are awful to work with."

"They're anchors, they work  _it_ , as in the camera, not work with actual people," Alex said easily, by way of consolation. "You're still doing good work with getting Boehner for tonight though, don't let them get you down."

Meredith nodded at the phone. "You're on the phone with the NYCLU?"

"Oh! Hi, yeah, I'm here." Alex held up a finger and gave his friend an apologetic look. "Hang on, can you spell that for me, please?" He quickly scribbled the name down on a legal pad. "Okay. Thanks so much for that, please tell her we'll see her on the studio Saturday at one PM. Yeah." He relayed the address of the HANCA tower. "Bye!" Putting the phone down, he grinned triumphantly at Meredith, " _Score_."

"So?" Meredith prompted for an explanation.

"Arizona just gave me my first big assignment," Alex responded eagerly. "She wants me to help her and Bailey put together a discussion panel to discuss the stop and frisk law. I'm supposed to select a handful of candidates to be on a panel and set up an open forum with them here on Saturday, throw some ideas out."

"Well, look at you!" Meredith commented cheerfully. "Wow, you just one-upped me on Boehner."

"Aw, don't be like that, Mer," Alex said. "I'm sure that the interview will be great. Once you manage to rein Torres and Sloan in, that is." He smirked.

"Wait until Arizona asks you to manage Derek."

Alex shook his head. "We do things differently at the nine. Only Arizona handles Derek. That way, nothing gets in the way of proper journalism. Not even Derek Shepherd's ego."

"Karev." Bailey's voice called out to him. "Did you get a rep from the NYCLU?"

"Yeah." Alex pushed his chair back so the diminutive senior producer was in his sight line. "The  _Associate Legislative Director_  - bam! You proud of me, Bailey?"

Bailey merely rolled her eyes and refocused her attention back to her computer screen.

* * *

**Saturday, 12:45PM**

Callie liked going to her office in the newsroom on the weekends to do some extra work, and the weekend staff were also nowhere as obnoxious as some of her own staff. However, the newsroom she entered today looked more like the one she went on the weekdays. "The hell is going on," she murmured, as she watched Bailey usher a few people inside the big conference room.

Through the glass wall, Callie could see Arizona, who was swiping at her tablet, looking up occasionally to greet the people coming in. Not knowing that she was even doing it, Callie stood there and watched her. Her smile was still as sunny as the first time Callie had been on the receiving end of it, on the Al Gore press bus.

As if by telepathy, Arizona's head turned and her eyes locked with Callie's.

Even from the far side of the bullpen, Callie saw how blue they were.

Arizona left the conference and began to approach her. "Callie," she said brightly. "What are you doing here today?"

"Uhm." Callie shuffled on her feet nervously, not really knowing why Arizona had this effect on her. "I like to work here on my days off. It's quiet. Mark can't disturb me."

"Mark Sloan lives with you?" Something unpleasant flickered over Arizona's face. Was it jealousy?

"No, he lives next door." When the expression on Arizona's face didn't change, Callie added, "He was the only person I knew in New York when I moved here, so I thought it was a good idea at the time. For you know…"

"No, I don't know."

"Carpooling."

"Right." Arizona pursed her lips and nodded.

As much as she was enjoying Arizona's apparent displeasure at her living near Mark Sloan, Callie wanted to defuse the tension. "I liked the story on the military commissaries that have been shut down."

"Thanks," Arizona said. "It was a story close to me."

"Yeah, your parents, right?" Callie said. "How are they doing, by the way?"

Arizona shrugged. "Still living in Quantico, just outside the base. Dad's on partial retirement. My mum called afterwards to say that she's been doing stuff to help out the families who can't afford anything but the commissary."

"That sounds like your mother," Callie said, smiling. A silence settled between them. "So… what are  _you_  doing here?"

"Webber told me to put a panel together for America in Focus to discuss the stop and frisk law closer to the election date."

"But it was declared unconstitutional," Callie said, frowning.

"Yeah…" Arizona shrugged. "He knows something I don't know. Just following orders. Anyway, we're gonna have an open forum with the panelists today, without Derek. Not to control what they have to say, obviously. Just an initial prep, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." There were occasions when discussion panels would have different formats, requiring even independent panelists to turn up for briefing sessions.

"You're welcome to sit in, if you like."

Callie shook her head. "Oh, it's a work thing, I really shouldn't." She held her resolve, even though Arizona's eyes, trained squarely on her face, were the hardest thing to resist in the bullpen - perhaps even the entire Harper Avery Media Tower.

"All right then." Arizona said, appearing unfazed. "Well, have fun with your work, and stuff." She was about to turn around and head back to the conference room when her gaze moved from Callie's face to over her shoulder. Her jaw went visibly slack.

Concerned, Callie turned around, only to come face to face with a pretty, lithe blonde her height. Her face mirrored Arizona's. "Can I help you?" Callie asked her.

The woman made eye contact with Callie, with clear effort. "This is the newsroom for _America in Focus_ , right?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

"Yes." Callie nodded slowly.

"Okay, I'm here for the stop and frisk panel?"

"Oh, Arizona will help you out there." She looked over at Arizona, who remained standing there with the same expression she had a moment ago, a mixture of shock and confusion. "Arizona? This lady is on your panel."

Arizona snapped out of it. "Your name, please," she said, in an equally shaky voice.

"Lauren Boswell. From NYCLU," the blonde replied in a peculiar tone.

"Right." Arizona shifted her weight from one foot to another. "We're getting started in a minute, but do you wanna come to my office for a sec? Standard procedure, I just want to talk to you before you talk to the other panelists."

Callie shot Arizona a look. The blonde fired one back at her.

"Come this way, please." Gesturing for Lauren to follow her, Arizona made her way to her office.

* * *

To her credit, as soon as they entered Arizona's office, Lauren seemed to have regained the bravado she had that night at the bar in West Village. "Funny to see you here, Arizona," she said slyly. "HANCA. Should've known."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Arizona asked. "And don't give me that look, you didn't tell me you worked at the NYCLU either."

"Did I have to?"

"Well, that note you left on my freshly washed, dried and ironed clothes implied that you wanted to see me again, and you left me your  _freaking_  number, but nothing else. I thought it was rather impersonal." Arizona frowned. "How did you even get into my apartment building?"

"I followed someone in, pretended that I lived there so they held the door open for me," was Lauren's simple reply. "And I did want to see you again, as I said in the note, so I have no idea why you thought I was being  _impersonal_. You're the one who didn't take the initiative to call or text me after I left you my _freaking_  number, so I just assumed it was a no. I bet you accommodating me in your office isn't even - what did you call it? - standard procedure. You just wanted to tell me off for stalking you."

"Okay, it isn't standard procedure," Arizona conceded. "Look at us, arguing like a pair of lesbians. Lauren, huh?"

The other blonde ignored her."Was that Callie Torres out there? She's tall."

"She is, isn't she?" Arizona said. "Jesus, I can't believe you're the Assistant Legislative Director of the NYCLU and you're coming on a panel on the show that I produce. Talk about having to skirt professional boundaries."

"Your one night stands don't show up to the studio often?"

"My one night stands don't usually have a BA in History from UCLA, a JD from Stanford and an in depth knowledge of institutional racism in the criminal justice system," Arizona said.

Lauren grinned. "So you looked me up."

"No, an AP did it. I just had him read everyone's resumés out loud, like a bedtime story."

Bailey rapped her knuckles on Arizona's door before opening it and poking her head in. "We ready? Callie told me you've got Lauren Boswell in here." She scrutinised Lauren.

"Just a couple more minutes, Bailey. Lauren is an old friend," Arizona said.

"All right." Bailey left.

"So, we have to maintain professional boundaries now, I suppose," Lauren said.

Arizona made a show of looking at her watch. "Nah, we got time to cross them for a bit," she said. She took a deep breath, not really believing that she was saying what she was about to say. "I know it was pretty crappy of me not to get in touch with you, and I don't really have a good reason for it, but I want to transgress professional boundaries and ask you out for a proper dinner date. Unless, you know, drinks and then sex are more your style."

"I prefer all three," Lauren deadpanned, which made Arizona laugh. "But seriously, yes, I'd love to go out for a proper dinner date."

"How about tomorrow night? I'll even properly call you about the final details."

"Pulling out all the stops, aren't you?" Lauren said, chuckling. "Sure, tomorrow night sounds great. As long as you don't make me late for work again."

"Oh, I can't promise that." Arizona winked, then straightened her sweater. "Now, shall we meet the rest of the panel?"


	7. Hidden Fault Lines

**Thursday, 12:30AM**

Running a hand through her already tangled hair, Arizona adjusted her headset one last time. She watched Derek settle into his seat behind the anchor's desk. "Five seconds," she told him. "Let's hope this is the last time we have to do this for the rest of the year."

"Don't jinx it," Derek said out of the corner of his mouth.

"Roll in," the technical director said.

Derek flashed his winning smile at the camera. "Good evening. I'm Derek Shepherd and tonight we are coming to you with a special report out of Washington DC," he took a deep breath. "Just after midnight, President Obama signed the bipartisan bill straight out of the House of Representatives, putting an official end to the government shutdown.

Earlier today, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid and Senator Mitch McConnell put forward a proposal to fund the government until January 15 and to suspend the debt limit until February 7. The proposal has gone through senate, eighty-one to eighteen, and through the house two hundred and eighty-five to one hundred and forty-four. Joining us now live from Washington is our Capitol Hill correspondent, Grace Everett. Grace?"

"Sixty seconds back."

"How long is this meant to go out for?"

"Probably another twenty minutes." Arizona turned around to look at Bailey, who gave her a thumbs up. "We have an interview lined up with Senate Majority Whip Richard Durbin. He's just arrived at the DC bureau, setting him up for a live cross now."

"Great," Derek said.

"I'm sure you'll be able to be creative and sensible with that interview?"

"Sure can." Derek frowned. "You sound tired, Arizona."

"Probably because I am. Bone tired.  _Freaking_  exhausted."

"You deserve a good night's sleep after this. Crazy first two weeks to be a new EP."

Arizona sighed. "Has it only really been two weeks?" It felt much longer because of what was going on during the shutdown, and now she had that panel to organise, too.

"Ten seconds back."

"Yeah, but you're doing a great job. I've been told that our ratings are going through the roof," Derek said. "Maybe you should take a girl out after this. Or woman. What's your type?"

The technical director rolled his eyes at Arizona. "Two seconds, Derek," he muttered.

"Durbin's ready," Bailey announced from behind her.

"Shut up, Derek. You're gonna introduce Durbin now." Arizona recalled her date with Lauren on Sunday evening. She had been hesitant to try dating again, but dinner with Lauren was nice. Interesting. There were sparks, for sure, but she still can't differentiate between intellectual, sexual or, God forbid, romantic sparks.

Not entirely understanding Arizona's terse tone, Derek looked at the camera. "Thanks for that, Grace," he said. "And now we're joined live from the DC studio by Senate Majority Whip Richard Durbin. Senator Durbin, good evening…"

* * *

Callie sank deeper into the arm Mark had draped around her. They were watching Derek in the living room of her apartment, and felt very strange while doing so. "That should be us right there," she said. "Why weren't we asked to stay on for this?"

"Webber said something about wanting to try Arizona and Derek on breaking news."

"Okay, fair enough. It better not be permanent," Callie said. "But still, I feel useless right now. We're _watching_  the news. We never watch the news. We look at links on Twitter then sit in front of a camera and repeat what we just read."

Mark stared at her. "Oh come on, you know it's harder than that."

The dark-haired woman ignored him. "Any old fool can do what we do."

"Don't be so reductive," Mark said. He muted the television, then shifted his position so that he could see Callie's face easier. "Why are you upset anyway? Aren't you glad that we had a night off for once? Barefoot and in sweatpants when we would otherwise be in our suits with heavy makeup on?"

"It- it's nothing." Callie bit her lip. "I should really stop eavesdropping on the APs."

"Why? What did they say?"

"I heard them talking about how Arizona was seeing that NYCLU lawyer for the stop and frisk panel. Like, romantically," Callie said. "I was there when she came in the building that Saturday. I knew there was something going on between them!"

"Whoa, whoa, back track," Mark said. "Arizona is dating a NYCLU lawyer? Who's going to be a panelist on her show? I didn't think she was the one who would create a conflict of interest willingly."

"From what the APs said, they probably met before that and Arizona probably didn't know she was a NYCLU lawyer." Callie snorted. "I'm guessing she's a one night stand. Arizona told me she had tonnes of those when she was in college and in J school."

Mark cringed. "Sorry, Callie, I don't want to think about Robbins having sex."

"Well, that's a change," Callie deadpanned. "And obviously she's not a one night stand if people think she's dating the lawyer."

"Cal, I'm sorry," Mark said genuinely, "but it's been ten years. You didn't expect her to move on?"

"Sure, but not with a skinny, blonde bombshell who looks about ten years younger!"

"People get over people, that's the way it is. Imagine how many people she would have dated when she was abroad." As he watched Callie's face sink, Mark regretted it almost as soon as he said it. "A bombshell, huh?"

Callie nodded. "Arizona's not one to be open with her emotions, which made her a good journalist from the moment I met her, really, but last Saturday," she paused to consider her words, "she made a face when I mentioned that you live next door to me."

"A face?" Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Like, she was jealous," Callie said, the hope obvious in her voice.

Mark looked thoughtful. "Robbins is - what do you call it? - a lone star lesbian, yes?"

" _Gold_  star," Callie corrected, "and that's actually a backwards and bigoted label since it erases bisexual women like me… but yes, as far as I know, she's never been with a guy. Anyway, what's your point?"

"If she looked jealous," a smug grin gradually appeared on his face, "then that must mean that she finds me attractive. From a gold star lesbian. What an honour."

"Mark!" Callie drove her elbow lightly into his ribs, pushing herself away from him. "Jeez, we're talking about me here. And how the love of my life has upgraded from me to Barbie, _Esquire_. And god knows what the others were like in between."

"All right, I'm sorry," Mark said. "What's this lawyer's name? I'll look her up. Vet her for you, you know? If that's what gives you peace of mind."

"Lauren Boswell."

"How unexciting." Mark frowned. "That doesn't sound like an upgrade to me."

Callie rolled her eyes. "Wait until you see her."

"I'm sure that Arizona is temporarily blind, and that this Lauren lady doesn't hold a candle to you," Mark said gently. "I mean, seriously. Who in the right mind would come back from the desert after ten years and not beg to have you back?"

"Are you confessing your love for me?" Callie pretended to appear scandalised.

"No, I'm just trying to be a good best friend," Mark said.

"Well, does it have to be right now? Can't a woman mope?"

"Let's wait another ten years then," Mark said. He placed a hand on Callie's shoulder. "Love of your life, huh?"

"Mark."

"Okay, I'm dropping it." Seeing that Derek's report had finished, Mark turned the television off. "I'm going back to my apartment to sleep. I'll see you tomorrow morning for work?"

"Yeah."

As Mark walked towards the door, Callie's voice stopped him, "You're a good friend, you know?"

"Walk tall, Torres." With a smile, Mark stepped out and shut the door behind him.

* * *

**1:50AM**

Having already brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas, Arizona saw the LED notification on her phone blinking. She took this as an opportunity to give in to the temptation to check her cellphone before going to sleep. That was a problem with being a journalist in the social media age. You start craving the information hit.

The notification was a text from Lauren:  _Been thinking about you. You did good work tonight. I figured that was you on the other side of the camera with Derek Shepherd?_

Arizona couldn't restrain her smile as she typed a response. _Yes, that was me._

 _If you produced breaking news I'd watch it more often instead of following it on Twitter._  Lauren's reply was almost immediate.

_What are you doing up at this hour anyway?_

_Finishing off some work,_  was Lauren's response,  _Then I saw Derek Shepherd on the TV so I thought you were working late, too._

 _Well, you thought right,_  Arizona wrote.  _So, you've been thinking about me?_

Lauren's reply:  _Yes. I can't wait for the panel to be over. Then we can be together openly without compromising your work._

So, Lauren was thinking that far ahead already, Arizona thought. She wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea.  _Yeah. But we can still meet up for drinks or dinner. Or you can come over here?_  She sighed as she sent it, realising that she was enabling the woman.

Arizona turned her cellphone on silent, put it where she couldn't reach it and lay back on her bed, where she thought about all the things people did when they were lonely.

* * *

**7:15PM**

HANCA's primetime news bulletin was playing on one of the televisions in Mark's office, where he and Callie were having dinner together before their show. Callie swallowed a mouthful of fried rice and pointed at the screen with her chopsticks. "We're still talking about the earthquake in the Philippines?" she asked.

Mark turned to her. "What? There's a large Filipino population in the US,  _and_  the scientists there discovered a fault that caused the earthquake," he said. "One they haven't seen before. It's like what happened with the earthquake in New Zealand. That's pretty big stuff that the whole world should know about."

"Shit." Callie frowned. "Imagine just having something so volatile brewing underneath your feet, like that. I mean, I think everyone knows what the Earth is capable of, but living over an actual fault line and not knowing it until it just kinda springs up on you? That's horrifying stuff."

"And you're going to write a very strongly worded letter to the United Nations to send out teams of geologists and seismologists to inventory  _every freaking fault line_  on the planet, just to check that the current count is correct."

"I'm not gonna do that!" Callie's face blanked. "What's a seismologist?"

Mark laughed. "What are we gonna do with our lives now that the shutdown has ended?" he asked. "That was some really good shit we got up to. Remember that interview with Bachmann?"

"We didn't quite rip her apart," Callie said, laughing. "But we had fun trying."

"That's the whole point of this gig, Torres."

"Owen didn't think so."

"He wasn't amused, wasn't he? He just kept yelling in my ear throughout the interview."

"Don't act like you're the tough guy, Sloan." Callie snorted. "He rattled you enough that you behaved when we interviewed Pelosi, Reid, Cantor and Boehner."

"I wish we had gotten Cruz. Or Rubio."

"Didn't we all?"

Mark leaned forward. "Hey, since this shutdown is over, we should celebrate. Let's get everyone at Joe's after the nine o'clock and get some drinks," he suggested.

"On a work night?" Callie asked doubtfully. She wasn't one to turn a night at Joe's down, but she had a nagging worry that Arizona would be there, and that Lauren woman would probably be with her.

"C'mon, are you in _third grade_?" Mark scoffed. "And it's not like it hasn't stopped you before."

"I just haven't slept properly in a while because of work, and you know, I'd like to start doing that again." Callie hoped this would convince Mark. "Besides, the other staff probably feel exhausted, too."

"Sure, yeah, a hangover wouldn't feel good when I've been averaging four hours of sleep a week nowadays." Mark nodded understandingly. "How about we make it tomorrow night, then?"

Callie shrugged. "All right, I'm in." Why the hell not? The thought of Arizona's new blonde bombshell shouldn't stop her from having fun.

* * *

**11:45PM**

Perhaps it was an impulse that was born out of being fed up of spending nights alone, but Arizona invited Lauren over to her loft after work. Arizona served some leftover pasta she had made the night before, then both of them settled into doing different things. Lauren was channel surfing on the television while Arizona sat next to her, absorbed in her laptop.

"Good show tonight," Lauren commented with a hint of amusement. "I particularly liked that montage of the GOP whining about the liberal media to various other news outlets over the period of the shutdown."

"Oh? That was Cristina's idea." The AP had a weird, but effective, sense of humour.

"Well, it was great."

Arizona didn't look up from her laptop. "I'll make sure to pass that on." She checked her work email for the first time since before the show. There was a new mass message from Mark Sloan. She opened it.

"What's that?" Lauren had slid closer to her to peer at her laptop screen. "Celebratory drinks?"

"Yeah." Not pleased with the casual invasion of her privacy, Arizona moved her shoulder to obscure Lauren's view. "To celebrate the reopening of the government, it seems. That Mark never turns down a chance to party."

"It's tomorrow night," Lauren said simply. "I should meet you there."

"Lauren." Arizona shifted away from the other blonde to create some distance in between them. "I don't think that's a good idea with the panel coming up and all. Sorry," she added hastily.

The smile on Lauren's face wiped off almost immediately. "All right, I understand," she said. "Conflict of interest. How about I'll just meet you after?"

The disappointment in the other woman's green eyes made Arizona feel guilty. Women were just so clingy sometimes. "How about… I won't stay very long, and I'll text you when I'm ready to leave and you can come get me?" she suggested.

Lauren's mood seemed to pick up. "Then?"

"Then we can go out to another bar or wherever else you want." Arizona shrugged. "It'll be Friday night. The city would be our oyster."

"Okay, I can live with that compromise," Lauren said. "Now, you've done enough work for today, don't you think? Are you going to put that laptop away or do I have to wrench it from your hands?"

Arizona laughed. "Oh, don't you dare!"

"Maybe I will." Lauren's eyes flashed with the prospect of a challenge. Her hands shot out to tickle Arizona. "Are you going to put it away now?" she asked over Arizona's giggles.

The smaller blonde attempted to push her away with one hand, steadying the laptop with the other. "Okay, okay, I'll put it away!" She managed to shut the lid and place it on the coffee table just as Lauren pounced on her, locking their lips together and entangling her fingers in Arizona's hair.

* * *

**Friday, 11:05PM**

Joe's was crowded with HANCA journalists that night. It wasn't as if Joe, the owner and head bartender, minded. He chose the location strategically, after all, and the way the bar was decorated made it appear like the great newsman pubs of the olden days. Not that anyone from HANCA had ever picked up on that.

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" Mark Sloan's booming voice carried easily over the hum of his colleagues chatting. He had an extra large tankard - what was called a "super jug" - of tap beer in his hand. "I want to propose a toast to us. We are journalists-"

"Storytellers!" Cristina interrupted. Several people glared, while Arizona looked at her curiously.

"Yes, storytellers," Mark conceded gracefully. "We are- "

"The fifth estate!" April called out. She wasn't accustomed to drinking, so she was already a little tipsy.

"It's actually the fourth," Alex corrected her.

"No more fucking interruptions!" Mark yelled, causing everyone to laugh. When that subsided, he continued: "We are journalists. And yeah, we went viral on the internet for going off at senior politicians," he tipped his glass at Derek, who gave everyone a rueful smile, "and we may have spent all our patience for long days and midnight reports. And some us probably have not gotten laid in the last two weeks." A number of journalists chuckled sheepishly. "But we got through it. We may not have saved the country, but in true American tradition, we will take credit for it. So… let us drink!"

They all cheered, then some started ordering more drinks while others returned to their conversation. Mark tapped his spaced out best friend's shoulder. "I don't see that margarita getting enough attention," he joked. "Anything wrong with it? You want me to ask Joe to make you a better one? Cal?"

Callie snapped out of it. "Oh no," she said. "The margarita's fine as it is, I just realised that I wasn't really in the mood to be drinking in the first place. Maybe I'll just call it an early night."

"Then who's gonna ride in the cab with me and pull my hair back while I'm throwing up?" Mark jutted his bottom lip out, but his blue-gray eyes were glinting mischievously. When he noticed that Callie wasn't exactly paying attention to him, he spoke again, in a lower voice, "You know, I think that margarita would look a whole lot more appetising if you stopped staring at Arizona for like, two seconds." He had followed her gaze to the perky blonde across the room, who appeared to be engaged in conversation with Alex, Owen and Teddy. They were each nursing a super jug.

"What?" Callie turned around to face him. "I am  _not_  staring at Arizona."

"Sure, and I'm expected to believe that you're staring at Teddy? Or that carrot top Owen?" Mark cringed. "Jesus, please don't tell me that you're staring at Karev. Come on!"

"I'm not staring at anybody," Callie said, even though she and Mark knew that was a lie.

"By the way, I looked up Lauren Boswell for you," Mark said. "She's okay looking, I suppose. For a lawyer."

" _You_  went to law school." Callie rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but I became a journalist instead because we know that this mug deserves to be on TV." Something - or knowing Mark, probably  _someone_  - caught his eye. "Speak of the devil, here she is…" He looked at Callie's bewildered face. "Lauren Boswell," he stated by way of explanation.

"What?" Callie craned her neck to look. They both watched as the tall blonde woman pushed her way through the crowd in order to greet Arizona, who looked surprised to see her. Callie suddenly felt the need to down her drink.

"Hmm, she looks better in person," Mark mused. He felt his friend recoil beside him, so he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, Cal. I didn't mean that she was prettier than you."

"No, Mark, it's okay, really." Callie resisted to shrug Mark's hand off because that would just confirm her lie. "I don't care anyway. You're right. It's been ten years, Arizona's allowed to move on." Proper closure be damned.

Mark patted Callie's shoulder before removing his hand. "You're allowed to move on, too."

* * *

Across the bar, Owen was in the middle of a story: "So, Arizona tells me to drive the jeep over this really cool piece of rock, to see if it'll send us airborne for a few seconds. Turns out the rock was actually an explosive covered in sand. Good thing it had gone faulty because of exposure to the elements, or we could've been blown to bits and it would've all been Arizona's fault!"

"Please," Arizona snorted, "Timothy's buddies looked at the detonator. It was a cheap, poorly made explosive. The jeep would have just needed a really good repair job!"

"That still doesn't excuse you from giving us the fright of our lives!" Teddy exclaimed.

"I swear, I had been embedded with that unit for about seven months at that point. Seven months without sex. I would have died with so many regrets," Owen said. "Like, you know, not listening to a Marine's batshit crazy little sister."

Alex, the lone audience to their war stories, guffawed.

Arizona shoved him and Owen at the same time. "Ew, boys, stop it," she said. "Can I just reiterate one more time that if that bomb had gone off properly, there was no way it could have killed us? You know, unless we stepped on it with our feet."

"Tim lost his shit when he found out, though," Owen said.

"Timothy is Timothy, he can overreact as much as he likes," Arizona said. "While you, Mr Stoic, have no right to do so when you are still alive and well eight years later."

Teddy laughed and placed an arm around Owen. "Oh, Arizona, come on, Owen isn't stoic. He's actually real sentimental, aren't you, Owen?" She shook the redheaded man affectionately, and he averted his eyes out of embarrassment. "Remember that time with the guitar?"

Arizona grinned. "Yeah, by the bonfire! How could I forget? What song were you singing again, Owen?"

"Anyway, Alex, there was this one time, _without_  Arizona, when we went into- " Owen made an attempt to change the subject, but was abruptly cut off with Arizona yanking him. "What is it?"

"Don't be shy now, I was asking you a question about that song you were singing."

Teddy leaned forward. "Wasn't it a Bryan Adams one? I think it was 'Everything I Do'."

"You're a romantic?" Alex looked at the older man. "Now you really  _have_  to tell the truth."

Owen hopped off the stool he was sitting on. "I'm dry," he indicated to his super jug, "I'm gonna go get some more beer. Anyone want a refill?"

"Karev." Arizona shoved her nearly empty super jug at him. "Get your boss some more beer, will ya?" She smiled and batted her eyelashes at him.

"All right," Alex said. He nudged Owen. "Hunt, take Teddy's."

"Fine." Owen took the tankard from his senior producer, who was smiling at him, half-smugly, half-sweetly. He followed Alex to the bar.

Teddy inched towards Arizona. "So, now that we're done swapping stories about that time in Iraq, tell me about what's going on in your personal life," she said.

"Well, I got a new apartment," Arizona said.

"Really? Where?"

"Just outside West Village," Arizona replied. "It's a converted loft, so yeah, it's pretty cool. I didn't have any furnishings brought over from London so I got new stuff from Ikea."

"You should throw a housewarming party!" Teddy suggested excitedly.

Arizona considered it for a moment before shrugging. "I could be on board with that. Invite the whole newsroom." Her face lit up with enthusiasm. "You should bring Henry."

"No!" Teddy frowned. "Henry and I are… new."

"Seriously? You've been seeing him even before I took over at the nine o'clock!"

Teddy folded her arms. "All right, seriously, you want me to bring Henry? Bring that new girl of yours. Lara, wasn't it?"

"Lauren," Arizona corrected. "And she and I are new, too."

"Oh yeah?" Teddy pointed towards the entrance of the bar. "Then why is she here?"

"What?" Alarmed, Arizona looked where Teddy was pointing. Sure enough, Lauren was approaching their table. "I told her not to come until I've texted!"

"Arizona, hey!" Lauren greeted.

"Lauren." Arizona smiled tightly. "You're early."

Lauren shrugged confidently. "Well, the night is young so I figured I'd come get you early so we can enjoy it. What do you say to a greasy meal at a diner?" She nonchalantly placed an arm around Arizona's waist. "My treat."

Teddy watched them, a smirk playing on her lips. "You should go, Arizona," she said. "I can handle the boys on my own just fine."

"You sure?" Arizona bit her lip. She didn't want to leave. She was having a good time with her colleagues, and the occasional glances Callie sent her way didn't hurt either. She watched the dark-haired woman, too, when she knew that she and Mark weren't looking.

"Yes, I'm sure," Teddy said firmly. "Go on, Arizona."

Slumping her shoulders slightly, Arizona gave in. "All right, Lauren, where do you wanna take me?" she asked gamely, turning to the woman next to her. As Lauren led her out of Joe's, she looked over her shoulder briefly, her eyes meeting Callie's. The anchor's expression was a mix of sadness and something else. Arizona hoped that it was anger, or jealousy. She had nothing left to do but to shrug sadly in her direction.

* * *

**Saturday, 1:00AM**

Lauren took her to a diner in the Queens, and ordered each of them a burger and fries. They ate slowly, Arizona was mostly silent while Lauren talked about her work. When her plate was cleared, Lauren asked, "Are you ready to go? My place or yours?" She threw a ten dollar bill as a tip and followed Arizona, who was already making her way outside.

"I just remembered that we have a panel meeting at the office tomorrow," Arizona said. "I think I'll just go back to mine alone and turn in. The last two weeks have really caught up to me."

"Oh."

"Sorry," Arizona said, even though she really wasn't. "We can do lunch tomorrow if you like."

"Sure, that would be nice." Lauren had seemingly recovered. She was now smiling at Arizona. "Do you want me to hail you a cab?"

Arizona shook her head. "I think I can do that myself," she chuckled, and did just that.

The taxi stopped in front of her, with the driver rolling down the window. "Where you heading, Miss?" he asked.

"West Village."

"Hop in."

"Okay." Before she reached for the door handle, she turned back to Lauren. With a hesitation that she hoped wasn't too obvious, she leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Thanks for the dinner. I'll see you tomorrow," she said softly. She opened the door and slid into the cab.

"What's the address, Miss?" the driver asked.

Arizona relayed it to him. As he drove them away, she watched as Lauren raised an arm to hail a taxi for herself.

* * *

Back on the Upper East Side, the exuberant gathering at Joe's started breaking up at around midnight, when a couple of the younger APs had gotten too drunk and needed to be escorted into cabs. Even more people left after witnessing a public spat between Meredith and Derek, in which they fought over being lovers.

A not-so-sober Cristina attempted to intervene, but ended up collapsing on Derek's lap, which did not remedy the situation in any way. Monday was going to be an interesting work day.

Callie, who felt somewhat more sober than everyone else, since she only had three margaritas , made sure that Mark wasn't taking anyone home with him before excusing herself. She deemed her alcohol-induced buzz to be acceptable after two shots of tequilas just before she left the bar. Good. She needed it for what she planned to do.

It was past one in the morning in West Village, and Callie was standing outside what she hoped was Arizona's new apartment building. She knew that the EP had sent an intern there to run an errand for her earlier this week, so Callie had sought him out at Joe's tonight to squeeze it out of him.

And to the West Village she went. If Mark knew where she was, he would have disapproved of her being in a strange place late at night, but the West Village was still alive, with crowds of people walking on the street, cheering and laughing. It was all good-natured, so far. Callie would only have been conspicuous because she happened to be standing there alone.

A cab pulled up in front of the building. The door opened, and finally, Arizona stepped out. She seemed to be deep in thought until she realised that Callie was standing right in front of her. Right away, she started firing off questions: "Callie? What are you doing here? How did you even find my building?"

"Long story, but I was waiting for you," Callie said. "I want to talk."

"About what? It's very late at night, Callie, should I just hail you a cab?" Arizona held her lightly by the upper arm and tried to lead her towards the building doors. "Come up and wait there."

"No!" Callie shook Arizona's arm off. "You need to listen to me."

A look of concern shadowed Arizona's face. "What is it, Calliope?"

"You bail," Callie blurted out. "You're a giant bailer. You couldn't even handle the thought of living in a space without me for like, four days, when we had left such a huge loose end untied, so you just ran off and left a note. People only do that when they're going out to get takeout or groceries. They don't do that when they've made a decision to move to _fucking_  Pakistan!"

"Callie- " Arizona started.

"I'm not done yet," Callie cut her off. "I know you're going to apologise. You've done that so many times in all those voicemail messages and those emails that you sent me. I'm tired of hearing 'I'm sorry', Arizona, I really am."

"I wasn't going to say sorry."

"Stop interrupting!" Callie took a deep breath. "What you did to me really sucked. You broke my heart. I thought we were gonna get married someday. But then you left. Fate fucking sucked for me after, you know that?  _Thirteen_  states legalised same-sex marriage, DOMA was ruled unconstitutional, but hey, you became - excuse this overused trope - the one that got away."

Knowing better than to continue replying, Arizona simply stared at the taller woman.

"And then you come back to the States, work at  _my_  network, in _my_  newsroom, no less. I wanted you to be a mess too, if we were ever to see each other again, you know that? I wanted you to look as terrible as I felt. I wanted to know that you hated leaving me as much as I hated being abandoned. Imagine my disappointment when you didn't. Instead, you're bouncing around, boosting Derek's ratings and dating that  _lawyer_ ," Callie spat the last word out, as if Lauren Boswell's profession was an affront to her sensibilities.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, giving the illusion she was about to give the blonde a reprieve. However, what came out of her mouth was: "You don't deserve to be happy when I'm still miserable."

"Calliope," Arizona breathed.

But Callie wasn't finished. "I hate what you've done to me. But I don't hate you. I can't. It's not that I want you to be unhappy, period. I want you to be unhappy as long as you're not with me," she said, in a much quieter, resigned voice. "Here you are though. I guess I'm not getting what I want anytime soon."

The blonde looked at her helplessly. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything."

"Okay."

"Look," Callie sighed, "I've said what I needed to say. Let's not bring this up anymore."

Arizona nodded. "I wanted to know what you were thinking. Thank you."

Callie ignored her. "Can you just get me a cab now?" she demanded.

Arizona blew out a breath. "All right." She fished for her phone in her bag. "You can't hail them this time of night so I'll call the agency to send you one. If you don't wanna come up to my apartment, then you can stay in the lobby until it comes. I'll show you how to open the electronic door."

"I'll stay in the lobby," Callie said.

* * *

**2:20AM**

She knew it was probably too late for a long bath, but Arizona grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and put her favourite bath bomb inside the large tub that came with the loft. She undressed and got in the hot water. Her muscles relaxed instantaneously, but her mind was still on overdrive.

She sipped her beer. Lauren was attractive, smart, and yeah, maybe she was a little overbearing, but she was easy to please and Arizona felt that she needed that right now. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that who she really wanted was Callie.

Except she screwed up beyond belief. Arizona didn't grow up with much aptitude for emotional communication. She may be good at writing, good at speeches and good at being a journalist, but she wasn't good at dealing with feelings - her own or other people's. That made her unsuited for Callie, a person who was so unabashedly expressive. It made Arizona nervous and envious to this day. The anchor's appearance outside her apartment building was a perfect showcase of that, even if it was clear that she may have been slightly tipsy.

Fuck sipping. Arizona took a long drink. She was about to finish off half of the bottle when she heard her cellphone ringing out in the living room. "Shit," she said. Who could it possibly be now?

Huffing, she placed the beer bottle on the table beside the tub before hoisting herself out. She slipped on a fluffy bathrobe and padded her way into the living room to grab the offending device without even looking at the screen. "It's Robbins, and now's not a good time," she snapped.

"Seriously? You're gonna talk to me like that?" The voice on the other end was familiarly crystalline. "That's no way to talk to your big brother after a long train ride."

Arizona almost dropped her phone. " _Timothy_? Train ride?" she asked loudly. "What's up? Where are you? What's going on?"

"I'm in New York for a week for business, little sis," Timothy explained. "It's kind of a rush decision, that's why I had to take the late train in from DC. I don't even have a final itinerary yet."

"Do you need a place to stay? I've got a spare bedroom."

"No, work's sorted all that out. Thanks for offering, though. I'm just calling to let you know that I'm in town and that we should make an appointment for coffee or dinner or something. I feel like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yeah, we need to catch up," Arizona said. "Tell me how your schedule is and we'll arrange a date."

"Good." Timothy's tone changed. "You sound sad, 'Zona."

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine," Timothy said simply. "Ah well." Arizona could see him shrugging. "We'll talk about it when I see you. Anyway, I'll let you get to bed. You are going to bed, right?"

"I am." Arizona sighed. "Good night, Timmy."

"Good night, 'Zona."

Arizona walked to her bedroom. For clothing, she picked out a worn t-shirt that said "USMC" in letters across the front. It was Timothy's, and he gave it to her when he was home in between his first and second tour of Afghanistan. She put on some boxer shorts underneath, hung the bathrobe up and lay in bed. After a month of getting herself in the weird rollercoaster that is the HANCA newsroom, spending time with Timothy - her best friend, confidant and the best big brother ever - appeared to be a good idea.


	8. Old Habits

**Monday, 10:50AM**

A fair-skinned hand shot through the closing elevator doors just after Mark had pressed the 'close' button. The doors slid open, revealing a cheerful Arizona, holding a source of caffeine in her hand. "Hi!" she greeted Mark. Her smile dropped a few watts when her eyes landed on the other person on the elevator. Callie. "Morning," she said in a duller voice.

"Morning," Callie said, her tone similar.

Sensing the discomfort between the two women, Mark spoke up, "You're early today."

Arizona's voice picked up its mirth again. "Oh, I have a conference call with our Seattle affiliates. I need to brief them before they go out to film a story at that elementary school later."

"Really? What story?"

"Lots of kids have been showing up without lunch since the GFC, and that area obviously hasn't quite recovered economically. The parents and the teachers are banding together to create a hot meals programme," Arizona said. "It's going to be such a sweet little story for tomorrow night."

"That's great," Mark said. "I wish we got to do cutesy stories on the eight, don't we, Cal?"

Callie avoided eye contact with the other two people in the elevator. "Yeah, that would be cool once in a while," she said. Mark noticed that her reply came a little too hastily.

"Ha!" Arizona said. She was beginning to look uneasy. "Try getting that past Owen."

"Exactly. That man has no clue how to have fun," Mark said. "Doesn't he, Callie?" he prompted.

"A total killjoy," Callie said flatly.

The elevator stopped and the doors started to open. Mark swore that the two women both breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay, guys, I'm gonna go test my Skype out. See ya!" Arizona said, before half-jogging to the bullpen entrance as an attempt to get a headstart.

Mark turned on Callie as soon as they stepped outside the elevator. "All right, Callie, what went on back there?" he demanded. "I was getting some weird lesbian energy vibes."

"It's nothing, Mark," Callie said unconvincingly.

He raised an eyebrow. "Did something happen after I got drunk on Friday night?"

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "She had left way before you were off your face, remember?"

"I don't remember," Mark said. "That's the point of being off your face."

Callie rolled her eyes. She pulled her office door open and went inside, Mark hot on her heels.

"Something happened. I know it!" Mark insisted. "Why don't you just tell me?"

"Fine." Callie settled down in her executive-style desk chair while Mark flopped onto one of the softer armchairs by the window. "I went all  _Say Anything_  on Arizona on Friday night outside her apartment building. Except it was far from romantic."

"Shit. What did you say?"

"A long angry rant about how she doesn't deserve to be happy," Callie said.

"Jesus."

"I know."

* * *

**2:00PM**

Her staff were seated quietly inside the conference room when Arizona walked in, unbundling a stack of cards wrapped in brown paper. Upon noticing the elaborate glitter and pink ribbons on it, Cristina spoke up: "Uhm, may I ask what the hell those are?"

"Invitations!" Arizona replied brightly. "As the staff of my show, you will be the first ones to receive these. The other people will get them later." She started handing them out.

Cristina held her invitation gingerly between her thumb and forefinger. She didn't do glitter and pink. She scanned it quickly. "A housewarming party?" She looked up at her EP. "Will there be booze?"

"Loads of it." Arizona winked. "Pick your own poison."

"Okay, I'm in."

"Great! I thought you would be," Arizona said, grinning. "I hope all of you come, because it's not gonna be great without you guys. Anyway, let's look at tonight's rundown." She removed a pair of eyeglasses from a case next to her tablet and put them on. "How's that story on the lead up to the New Jersey marriage equality bill going, Cristina?" The bill was expected to pass through the state legislature, but Arizona had people on the ground over the weekend with the intention of "documenting history".

"The crew from our affiliate are putting the finishing touches on the story, which they will be filing tonight." Cristina was back to being professional now. "They've also been invited to film a celebration hosted by a combination of LGBT rights groups tonight if and when the bill goes through. I was thinking live cross to them, do a few interviews?"

"I was thinking the same thing. How long is the pre-filmed story, do you know?"

"It's around eight minutes, give or take."

The blonde turned to her senior producer. "Do you think we can make time for two, three minutes tops, live crossing at the celebration tonight right after the pre-filmed story?"

Bailey squinted at the document of the rundown on her laptop. "Yup, we can."

"Lock it in!" Arizona said happily. This show was coming together beautifully and it's only the first rundown meeting of the day. These were some of the times when she loved her job the most. "Cristina, flick the crew an email about this. I trust that all of them are capable of executing a live cross?"

"They should be." Cristina tapped a few keys on her laptop to get started.

Arizona glanced at the next item on the rundown sheet. "Jo, is everything going along smoothly on the story about the South Florida house prices?"

* * *

**Tuesday, 4:55PM**

"Guess what just arrived hot off the wire?" Teddy's head was poking through Callie's office door, wearing a wicked smile. "Congress polling data!" She waved a piece of paper front of her face.

"That's great, Teds, thanks," Callie said, uncharacteristically half-hearted.

Teddy must have noticed that Callie's attention was somewhere else, because she asked, "Should I leave this with you or should I give this to Mark instead?" The senior producer knew she'd take the bait.

The anchor's eyes widened at the thought of Mark getting the glory over getting to be the polling wonk. "No, sorry, was a little distracted," she said. She held out a hand. "Give it here?"

"All right." Teddy handed her the paper. She spied a familiar pink card on Callie's desk. "Hey, you're going to Arizona's housewarming?"

Callie resisted a flinch at the mention of Arizona's name. "It's this Saturday, right?" Teddy nodded. "Yeah, I suppose I will. The whole newsroom's going, there will be booze… should be fun." It was the last place Callie wanted to be on a Saturday evening, but free alcohol was too good to pass up, especially when it was being served by an ex-girlfriend.

"Great! That would mean so much to Arizona, Cal. It really would." Teddy smiled at her with a hint of compassion, before leaving her alone in her office.

* * *

**10:30PM**

With his blue eyes, dark blond hair and athletic frame, Timothy Robbins was still the epitome of "All-American", even at the age of forty-two. He sat across from his younger sister in a Middle Eastern hole-in-the-wall not far from the Harper Avery Media Tower, where they arranged to have a late dinner together after she got off from work. "I told you to show me a piece of New York and you take me to have falafel," he said. "We couldn't have had a burger or a burrito or a pizza?"

Arizona swallowed a mouthful of pita and falafel, which was generously coated in garlic yoghurt. "The good burgers are in DC, the good burritos are in Cali, and I don't think we should be having something as heavy as pizza this late at night. Falafel is as New York as it gets."

"Ugh." Timothy screwed up his face, even though Arizona knew that he liked the falafel.

"You're not in college anymore, Timothy."

"You're starting to sound like my wife," he snorted snorted.

"Well, she's obviously doing something right," Arizona said. "How is she, anyway? And my niece?" In early 2001, Timothy had fallen in love with Hilary, a high school Chemistry teacher in DC, and they were on and off after he got deployed to Afghanistan. They got married over Easter in 2006 while he was furloughed, but only gave birth to their first child, Cat, after Timothy returned stateside for good in 2009.

"Cat's grown to be very chatty. She's just done her first month and a bit of preschool," Timothy told her. "She's loving it, as you can imagine. Hilary and I are thinking of signing her up for piano lessons soon, and she's taken an interest in soccer too so we'll see how it fits in with our schedules. Oh, and Hilary's pregnant," he said, like it was an afterthought.

" _What_? Timmy, that's great!" Arizona exclaimed. "You've told Mum and Dad, I hope."

"We only found out just before I left for New York. You're the first person I told."

"I'm honoured."

"So," Timothy chewed on his falafel thoughtfully, "when are you gonna give Mum and Dad a grandkid?"

Arizona almost choked. She winced as she reached for her Diet Coke bottle. After gulping some down, she said: "I'm turning  _thirty-nine_. Don't you think that's past childbearing age? Besides, the fruits of your virility seem to be enough for Mum and Dad." Timothy opened his mouth, but Arizona lifted a finger before sounds came out of it. "Oh no, Timmy, you're not telling me that I'm not getting any younger - I _know_  I'm not."

"Yeah, you're not getting any younger," her brother conceded, "but neither is Hilary, so our parents would have to be satisfied with two grandchildren. Mum will think that's a tragic number, the Colonel would chastise us for not putting enough effort in."

"The Colonel commenting on our baby-making abilities. Gross."

"Well, think of me, if you must."

Arizona scowled. "What do you mean?"

"I want nieces and nephews, too!" Timothy said. "I'd make a great uncle, don't you think?"

"You'd spoil them to bits and I wouldn't stand a chance. Besides, I'm not raising kids alone and I'm not with someone right now." Not seriously, anyway, Arizona thought.

"Sometimes I think about what would have happened if you didn't take the job in Lahore."

"I'd be pushing forty but I'd still be senior producer at the BBC's DC bureau."

Timothy was shaking his head. "No, you're too talented for that. What I meant was, if you didn't take that job in Lahore, you and Callie would probably be married by now."

"Timothy." She didn't want to get into this right now.

"Okay, I'm dropping it." Having finished his falafel, Timothy dabbed at his mouth with the paper napkin, rolled it up into a ball and threw it in the trash can along with the foil wrapper. "Let's get you home, shall we?"

* * *

Arizona's phone beeped as they sat in the taxi. She pulled it out of her bag. The message was from Lauren:  _Haven't heard from you all day. Can I come over?_  She knew that any excuse she made would be easily brushed off by the lawyer. Except for one. "Hey Timothy." Her brother was sitting on the other end of the backseat, hunched over his cellphone as well. "I know you've got a fancy hotel room, but do you wanna stay at my apartment instead?

"Uhm." Timothy looked up. "Why?"

"I just feel like we need to catch up beyond a dinner and my party on Saturday."

He shrugged. "Okay, that sounds like a good idea," he said. "Let's swing by my hotel first so I can pick up some stuff. I don't suppose you want me to wear the clothes you reserve for your lady lovers." He smirked before leaning across the barrier to talk to the driver about the change of plans.

"Great." Arizona didn't bother to hide her relief. She typed a reply to Lauren:  _Sorry, my big brother is up from DC so I've been busy entertaining him. He's staying in my apartment. Maybe another night._

"Who you texting?" Timothy asked.

"Lauren," Arizona said simply. When Timothy gave her an inquiring look, she elaborated: "She's this lawyer that I'm seeing. It's all very casual. She just, you know, comes over at night after work."

"Ah. Right, sure," Timothy said. "And I'm supposed to ignore that you invited me to stay with you so you can have a cockblocker?"

Arizona cringed. "I wasn't aware that old men are allowed to use that word."

"I wasn't aware that painfully single, ageing women still make up weird excuses to turn down sex." Timothy didn't miss a beat.

Touché. "It just feels very strange with Lauren, okay?" Arizona sighed. "I mean, she's good at,  _you know_ , and she's a decent person, but I'm not at that stage where I want to see her every night just yet." Even if she had been doing that for the past week.

"Well, I hope she knows that you just think of her as a," Timothy's face remained deadpan as he uttered the rest of his sentence, "booty call."

"Timmy!" Arizona couldn't let the other blonde down that easily by explaining the mixed signals she was giving out. Then again, she should refrain from giving her mixed signals anyway. She was the one who asked her out to dinner, after all - against her better judgement. But Timothy had a point.

"Hey, hey." Her brother raised his hands as a gesture of peace. "This is just all coming from my old, married self, which just made me realise that I'm probably not in the position to judge what you do with your relationships, sexual or otherwise."

"That's right." The phone beeped again.  _Ooooh, when can I meet him? (If you don't think it's too soon, of course.)_  "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," she muttered.

Timothy leaned over to read the text message and Arizona let him. "Is she coming on Saturday? I'll meet her then," he suggested eagerly. "There'll be a lot of other people there, we can talk over some beer. No pressure, you know?"

"Is it a good idea to invite her, though?" Arizona asked, scowling. "She might misunderstand what I want from our relationship."

"As if she isn't misunderstanding it already." Timothy had a point again.

* * *

**Wednesday, 5:20PM**

There were less than three hours to go until showtime, but the staff of  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  sat in the conference room as they tried to work themselves out of a dilemma. "I'm sorry," Meredith said, "I just don't think that the news about Congressman Grayson is still relevant. It came out yesterday morning and we already talked about it last night."

"Yes, but he did just compare the Tea Party to what is possibly the most feared out of the white supremacist movements," Owen said evenly. "Are you sure that it's not worth pursuing the validity of that comment?"

"I, for one, think it's worth pursuing," April spoke up. "I'm a southern girl and a self-identifying political liberal, and lemme tell you, the Tea Party is a white supremacist movement."

"I agree with her," Callie said. Mark placed a firm hand on her arm to silence her.

"Meredith? Any further comments?" Owen prompted.

"I still think that the congressman's comments were an insult to the Tea Party because as far as I know, they've never lynched anybody." Meredith pursed her lips. "However, if we're going to air this package, I think we should at least shorten it. I don't think we need to play that clip of him saying it again. It's been on loop everywhere else."

"And where do you suggest we increase the time?" April asked, folding her arms.

Meredith looked at Owen and Teddy. "Can't we just leave it like that?"

"Hmm." Teddy read something on her laptop. "Yeah, probably, unless you want an additional minute on the Twitter IPO. Bringing it up to a total of two and a half minutes."

"Hang on, hang on," Callie said. "We're spending a full  _ninety seconds_  on the IPO?"

"It was Mark's idea," Owen and Teddy said in unison.

Callie turned to glower at her fellow anchor. "Seriously, Mark?" she demanded. " _One minute and thirty seconds_  on tech news. You're forgetting that this a show about politics, and you know, real news?"

"Hey, tech news is real news," Mark countered, appearing unfazed by the death stare that Callie was giving. "Besides, it's not even technically tech news. It's an IPO. Which falls under financial news. Which you count under the umbrella of real news, since you've reported about it before."

"Or maybe you're just obsessed with Twitter," Callie said.

Mark nodded amiably. "Maybe I am."

"We're getting off track in solving this problem, guys," Owen intervened.

"Should we go to commercial break early?" Leah suggested.

"Sure, except shaving off a minute of time would be the equivalent of finding two ads that are exactly thirty seconds each." The redheaded EP shrugged. "And that would be easy enough to find except that HANCA tries to be strategic with showing ads so in this window of time, it'll be hard to find two that we can air without them looking incongruous with the rest."

"So we can't even attempt that? You're just giving up?" Meredith asked.

Teddy lifted a finger. "I think that we should let Owen have the final say."

Owen weighed it up for a moment. "I think that we should just leave the Grayson package the way it is so we won't have to go through these mental gymnastics to reach a conclusion."

"Amen!" April said.

"Managing editors?" Teddy looked at Callie and Mark.

"We're cool with whatever Owen says," Mark said.

"Guys. Guys!" Stephanie burst in the conference room from newsdesk duty. "Just got this off the wire, it was blinking red." She slid the piece of paper she was holding across to Owen. "The White House just named and shamed a NSA employee who posted a series of anonymous tweets that were considered to be 'insulting' to the administration. The employee has also been fired."

Teddy blew out a low whistle. "That doesn't look good for the White House especially as they're still wrapped up with the Merkel phone tapping," she said. "I guess we may have just found an extra minute  _and_  a juxtaposition to what's going on right now. I'll put it down immediately after the Merkel story, which'll make it the second in the A block. Owen?"

"That sounds like a good spot to me," Owen said. "April, you were working on that story, so can you help Stephanie file a report on this one. And Meredith, since it's at your insisting, go pay a visit to the editing booth to shave the minute off that package. Teddy, work with Callie and Mark to tweak the script according to the changes. I'm going to call a meeting again at quarter to seven to check on everything. Go." With that, the rundown meeting was adjourned.

* * *

**Thursday, 9:35PM**

A delighted squeal and a deep howl of laughter that carried across the buzz of the bullpen attracted Callie's attention as she was preparing to leave work for the night. After making sure that she hadn't forgotten anything, she stepped out of her office to see what the fuss was all about. Teddy and Owen were the apparent sources of the sound, as they were both standing close next to a blond man, big grins on their faces as they shared a conversation. Callie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about him was recognisable.

"I went to Columbia University's computer science department to talk about signing up for the OCS since we needed more IT specialists. The looks on their faces!" the man was saying. "It was kinda like, 'Stop talking shit, our parents aren't paying fifty grand a year to send us here only to go into the  _army_!'" He laughed. "I think I had better luck at NYIT and Vaughn."

Upon hearing uniquely jovial tone of his voice, it all clicked for Callie. The blond man was Timothy Robbins, Arizona's brother. She had to wonder, did he recognise her too? Making herself discreet, she decided to watch them for a little while.

She heard Teddy ask: "So, what brings you to the newsroom?"

"'Zona suggested I meet her after work so we can go get some pizza and beer, but I decided to show up early because I wanted to see her in action as an EP. Turns out, she won't let me into her control room."

"That sounds like Arizona," Owen said, chuckling.

"Yeah" Timothy shrugged. "It's okay, though. I caught the last third or so  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_. That's your show, right?"

Owen and Teddy nodded.

"Well, I think that it's excellent. I'm now thinking of buying myself some Twitter shares," Timothy said jokingly.

"What, the Pentagon doesn't pay you enough?" Teddy joked back.

Having heard enough of their conversation, Callie made her way to the elevators. But someone called her name.

"Callie!" The voice called again. She turned in the direction of its origin and saw Timothy smiling at her. His eyes - the same shade of blue as his sister's - sparkled with familiar affection. "It's nice to see you again," he told her sincerely. "You had a great show."

"Well, what he saw of it anyway," Teddy said, clearly feeling the awkwardness radiating from the anchor.

"T-thanks, Timmy." She was about to apologise since she only called him that because Arizona did, but the soldier's smile only widened. "Ah, I gotta go. I'll see you at Arizona's housewarming on Saturday?" she asked.

"Yes, of course," Timothy said. "Have a good night."

"You too." Out of the corner of her eye, Timothy gave her a half-wave, half-salute.

* * *

**11:00PM**

The two Robbins siblings surveyed the large pepperoni pizza and the six pack of beer they laid out on the table in the dining area. "A classic New York dinner," Arizona said ceremoniously. "You happy now, Timmy? I won't even tell Hilary about this unhealthy meal."

"Over the moon." Timothy licked his lips. "C'mon, let's get started." He pulled a chair out for his sister, waited for her to sit down before taking a seat across from her. While reaching for a piece of pizza, something caught his eye. "Hey, your phone's LED light is blinking. You wanna go check it?"

"Nah, I'm off duty." Arizona waved dismissively.

"What if it's Lauren?" her brother asked.

"I'm spending time with you right now, Timothy. I'm sure she'll understand."

"You know she's only being overbearing because she doesn't just want to be a fuck buddy, right?"

Arizona huffed. "Why are you speaking on her behalf?" she asked uneasily. "You haven't even met her." Nevertheless, she thought what her brother had said was true.

"I know you, Arizona. You need a reality check sometimes, especially about women." Timothy sank his teeth into a pizza slice. "Holy shit, this is good," he said through a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. When he swallowed, he leaned forward thoughtfully. "Speaking of reality checks, I want to tell you something but promise me that you'll save any possible offence or defensiveness for later."

Arizona frowned. "I do not get offended or defensive that easily!" she insisted.

"You just did!"

The blonde folded her arms and glowered at him.

"Besides, this isn't an easy topic." Timothy took a deep breath, appearing to be bracing himself. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but when you talk about Lauren, she just seems so temporary. I know you don't intend to get serious about her, but it's just a little bit different from that. You're not just keeping her around to have your fun, but you're keeping her around because she's a placeholder."

"A placeholder," Arizona repeated slowly. "For what, may I ask?"

"For someone better."

"Timothy." Arizona sighed. "Is this about Callie again?"

"Your words, not mine. I saw her today, you know," Timothy said. "In the office. She looks good. Older, but good. She said she was coming to your housewarming. Are things okay between the two of you again? I mean," he shrugged, "you're working together, you have to like each other somewhat."

"Well, Callie doesn't like me," Arizona said. "She drunkenly confronted me last week and basically told me that she doesn't want to see me happy because I broke her heart. Which is fair enough, I guess. You don't leave the country for ten years and expect everything to be okay again."

Timothy's jaw dropped a little. "Jesus, that bad?"

"I know it came out of nowhere, but I understand where she's coming from," Arizona said. "I was an idiot then, wrapped up in my own ambition. I prioritised my career above anything else in my life. But Callie was so great to me, and I loved her - I think I still love her now - but I don't think I'm enough. I wasn't enough then and I'm not enough now."

Her brother looked at her sympathetically. "You're a different person now, though, 'Zona."

"Timmy," Arizona's eyes dropped to her lap, "I really didn't think that Callie was interested anymore. I believed that she hadn't been for a while. After I left for Lahore, I sent her emails, left her messages, cried every night because I missed her so much... She's probably only interested in the crying part, but only to revel in satisfaction."

"I'm sure it's not like that."

Arizona disappeared into her bedroom and emerged with a small, worn out, folded piece of paper. She handed it to Timothy. "These are probably the last words Callie had for me before I left for Pakistan." She watched her brother's eyes widen as he read it. "Yes, Timothy. It's exactly like that."

* * *

**Saturday, 8:00PM**

Since it was an opportunity that came along once in a blue moon, Timothy permitted his sister to parade him around the apartment to introduce him to every single one of her colleagues. After being introduced to a group of associate producers in one corner, Arizona led him to Derek Shepherd, who was talking intently to the woman next to him.

"Hey guys, you enjoying yourselves?" Arizona asked them.

"Yeah, thanks for throwing this party, Arizona," the woman said.

"And this must be your brother?" Derek asked her while eyeing Timothy up.

"Oh, yes!" Arizona wrapped an arm around Timothy's waist. "Derek, Meredith, this is my big brother, Lieutenant Colonel Timothy Robbins," she said proudly.

Timothy couldn't help shaking his head. "Tim is fine."

"And this is Derek Shepherd, the anchor for my show - you know that - and this is…" Arizona trailed off, apparently confused.

"Meredith Grey," Derek supplied. "My girlfriend."

"I'm also an associate producer for the eight o'clock," Meredith added hastily. Unlike Derek, whose charming smile never faded from his face one bit, she shifted uncomfortably as Arizona looked between the two of them with a combination of glee and shock. "Hey, the Chief just arrived!" she pointed at the doorway.

Arizona turned around, forcing Timothy to do the same. "Oh! Timmy, you gotta meet my boss!" They walked over to where he was standing and she made the appropriate introductions between Webber and her brother.

Webber's attention flitted from Timothy to the doorway. "Hey, what's Ms Boswell doing here?" he asked, looking back at Arizona. "I didn't think you were the one to invite panelists to personal gatherings." The expression on his face was so vaguely bizarre that Timothy couldn't work out if he was expressing his disapproval.

"Uhm." Arizona averted her gaze. "I may or may not be involved with Ms Boswell."

"What?" Webber's eyes flared up in indignance. "Arizona!"

"It was before you asked me to put together for a panel, and I didn't even know she _happened to be_  Ms Boswell until she turned up," Arizona explained shakily. Timothy felt her grip his arm. "What was I supposed to do?" Her voice had renewed confidence to it. "Ask her to leave the building when she had given her Saturday afternoon up for it?"

Webber responded to her, but Timothy had stopped paying attention when he noticed Callie looking at some framed photos Arizona had displayed on a shelf. He shook out of his sister's grip and gave her hand a squeeze before walking to where Callie was. He looked over her shoulder silently, trying to see which photograph she was holding. "Ah, that's a nice one. I can't believe she kept that," he said in an even voice, so as not to startle the anchor.

Callie turned her head to look at him. "Tim," she said, a smile appearing on her face. "I can't believe she _chose_  to actually put this one up here." Barbara Robbins took it on one of the days Timothy was home on furlough, and they decided to do a touristy day around DC. The photo was in front of the Washington Monument, with Arizona standing in between Timothy and Callie, her arms around their waists. They looked so happy with their faces captured mid-laugh.

"We were her people, you know, you and me. That's why this photo is up here." Timothy stepped forward so that he was standing next to Callie. They both cast their eyes on the photo fondly. "I'm sad, and sorry, that things turned out this way."

"So am I," Callie admitted softly. "You wanna step out for a bit?" She nodded towards the sliding door to the balcony.

"Sure." Timothy let her lead the way. Realising that it was cold out, Timothy reached in his pocket for his electronic cigarette. "You mind?" he asked Callie, out of habit and of courtesy.

Callie tilted her head questioningly. "What the hell is that?"

"E-cig," he replied, as he pressed a button and waited for the device to warm up. "I've been using one for two years now, since my wife forced me to stop smoking. I just moved onto the nicotine-free ones last year. This one has an apple-flavoured cartridge. Tastes like cider." He offered it to Callie. "Want the first puff?"

"I'll pass, thanks."

Timothy shrugged. "More for me then." He held the e-cig to his lips and inhaled the warm apple vapour. He watched Callie, who was leaning on the balcony railing, contemplatively before he exhaled. "I'm going to get Arizona one of these for her birthday." Callie gave him a strange look. "It's coming up soon, yeah?" he reminded her.

"I know. It's not that," Callie said. "It's- She still smokes?"

"She was never as much of a heavy smoker as I was" Timothy said, wordlessly implying that it was a habit he picked up during the war. "She indulged in a cigarette or two this week though, and I wouldn't be surprised if she did it on all the other weeks I'm not here. She started smoking in college, did she tell you that? She got all stressed out when I left for Kosovo."

"Yeah, she may have told me about that," Callie said. "So, how have you been?"

"I eventually married Hilary, and we have a daughter and another baby on the way. The Pentagon looks exactly how it is in the movies, but what happens there is not as exciting. So yeah, I'm pretty good," Timothy recapped quickly, not really intending to talk about himself. "What about you? How's life been for you, Cal?"

"I'm like a huge nationwide star now, apparently," Callie scoffed. "Don't you watch the eight o'clock?" she asked jokingly

"I catch it from time to time. Eight o'clock is cuddles and story time for Catherine."

"Catherine? You named her for Arizona?"

"Yeah." Timothy smiled. "Hilary and I decided to use our sisters' middle names. So her name is Catherine Grace. We call her Cat." He took his phone out. "Want to see some photos?"

"I'd love to!" Callie said gamely. She scooted closer to Timothy and viewed the first of the photographs: a little brunette in pigtails and denim overalls, with a toothy grin on her face. "That smile…" Callie trailed off in awe.

"Like Arizona's, huh?"

"Yeah," Callie said. "She's beautiful, Tim. You did well. I don't think I should say this, but I feel like I have to," she hesitated for a moment, "when I look at that picture I imagine mine and Arizona's kid next to her. Cousins playing together."

"I'm glad you said that," Timothy said truthfully. "Wanna know something?"

Callie raised an eyebrow.

"I imagine the same thing, too." He took a puff on his e-cig then dragged out his exhale.

"I'm sorry, Timmy." Callie broke eye contact. "Arizona and I fucked each other up so bad. We were both so selfish, and in the end, that let us down. I thought I was over it, but ever since she came back into my life, all I do now is reminisce how much I hurt. And I don't like it. I spent the last few years not really paying attention to myself, then she comes back and I'm regressing."

"I understand. I'm not letting trying to push you two back together or anything," Timothy admitted. "Arizona just wouldn't stop talking about you, so I figured you were someone special. When I finally met you, I realised my initial hunch was correct. You were really different from all the others." He chuckled. "I'm sorry, this is a little weird, isn't it?"

"How so?"

"I feel like we just tried to make up for lost time by pretending that no time was lost."

"It's okay, Tim." Callie placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Just so you know, I think you would have made the best brother-in-law."

The sliding door creaked open. "Callie, here you are. Mark was look- " Arizona paused, blinking rapidly as she took in the sight of her brother and her ex standing next to each other. "Timmy? What are you two up to?"

* * *

"Oh, Arizona!" Callie abruptly removed her hand from Timothy's arm, and took a step away from him for good measure. "Mark's looking for me? Me and Tim were just- "

"Catching up," Timothy interrupted. Callie watched as his turned his e-cig off and tucked it back into his pocket, smiling disarmingly at Arizona the whole time. "I was just congratulating Callie on what she's achieved with her career."

Callie looked at him. "Well, I don't have a Peabody yet," she joked. She noticed that Arizona was still staring at them in puzzlement. "I better go see what Mark wants."

"He said you guys had a 'dance routine' to perform or something?" Arizona told her. "I think he's already roped Little Grey to being his partner though."

"Poor Lexie. I should go take over." Callie attempted to take a step towards the sliding door, but was stopped by Timothy's hand on her shoulder. She watched as he walked past her and said something quietly to Arizona before entering the apartment.

He even locked the sliding door behind him. Which left her and Arizona alone and stuck.

Callie huffed exasperatedly. That bastard.

"So…" Arizona started patting her pockets down anxiously.

"Looking for a cigarette?" Callie couldn't help asking.

"Shit." Arizona bit her lip. "How'd you know that?"

"Old habits die hard," Callie said.

Arizona sniffed the air. "Has Timmy been smoking out here?" she said. "It smells like apples."

"Yeah, he has."

"My brother is a sly fucker," Arizona muttered. "I'm sorry about this," she said in a much louder - and much quicker - voice. "He just kept on talking about you and me. I don't know what's come over him. I think it's his midlife crisis or something."

"To make sure we reconcile?" Callie asked her, point blank and intentionally cold.

The blonde cringed. "It's not for him to make sure of that." She matched Callie's indifference.

"Do you ever think we could?"

"Reconcile?" Arizona's face softened slightly.

"Yeah." Callie braced herself for an answer.

Arizona looked at her feet. "When I was in Lahore, I got into watching bootleg Hollywood romcoms we bought from the street markets on a good day," she started calmly. "And if there's one thing that they didn't say, it's that you don't let go of the one, because even if you manage to get her back, it won't be all of her that you get. You can't have some parts of her anymore because those were probably the ones she doesn't want you to break again." It all sounded rehearsed, but in a way that indicated that Arizona had done plenty of thinking before even believing that she was prepared for this conversation.

"So, you don't think we can put this behind us?" Callie frowned. Arizona did enjoy going on roundabout ways to say something.

"I think we need to do a lot more than trying to make amends for what happened in the past. We don't need a reconciliation. We need to restart." The blonde placed her hand in her pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. She took Callie's hand gently, palm facing up, then placed the piece of paper in it.

Callie stared at the piece of paper in her hand. "What's this?"

"I think you'll know," Arizona said. With a sad smile, she faced away from Callie to rap on the sliding door, trying to catch someone's attention. She managed to get Alex to open the door for her after a few turns of knocking. "Good night, Calliope," she said, before stepping inside. Fortunately, unlike Timothy, she left the door ajar.

With shaking hands - from cold or nerves, she couldn't tell - Callie unfolded the note. First, she recognised the neat, slanted penmanship as her own. And then she recognised what she had written, and tears sprang to her eyes.

_I arrived ready to talk, but you're not here. Please don't expect me to wait for you when you didn't wait for me. I want to fix this. I want to love you. But I can't bring myself to trust you anymore. I'm sorry it had to be this way._

_I know you're going to go looking for me, but don't bother - just know that I'm safe and I've sorted myself out._

_Callie_

How were they supposed to restart when neither of them are sure that they've outgrown what ended them in the first place? Old habits do die hard.


	9. Arizona 2013

**Monday, 1:45PM**

The staff of _The Eight o'Clock Breakdown_  filed out of the conference room after an unusually tense rundown meeting. Desperate to get straight into work, they were displeased when they were greeted by a grinning Richard Webber, who was standing in the middle of the bullpen with a younger, slimmer version of himself in a well-cut suit.

"Chief," Callie stated. "What's going on?"

"Callie," Webber began, although it was clear that he was addressing every individual in the bullpen, "this is Jackson Avery. He's from the operations department, and he's going to be observing our newsroom for the rest of the week to see if we can be more efficient about our working processes." He turned to the young man. "Jackson, this is Callie Torres, the eight's anchor, as you know."

Jackson Avery stepped forward and shook Callie's hand profusely. "It's great to meet you, Ms Torres. I watch the show just about religiously," he said pleasantly. Up close, Callie noticed how bizarrely attractive he was, with his light bronze skin against his green eyes, and the smattering of freckles around his nose.

"Avery, you say?" Callie said, an eyebrow raised. "By any chance -"

Jackson cleared his throat awkwardly and visibly shrunk back, as if trying to make himself invisible. "Harper Avery is my grandfather, yes," he said. "And my mother Catherine is currently the CEO of HANCA. But I promise not to let that sway my observation of how things are run around here." From beside him, Webber was shooting daggers at Callie.

"You have a MBA from Wharton and did his undergrad at Brown, right, Jackson?" Webber prompted. The young man nodded. The Chief had clearly noticed the suspicious looks that the more experienced of the staff were giving the Avery media empire's heir apparent. "At the end of the week, Jackson will be presenting recommendations to the EPs and possibly the anchors on how to optimise the operation of the newsroom. Just do things as you normally do so he can make a genuine observation."

"Try to act like I'm not here," Jackson chimed in.

Mark snorted mockingly. "Don't count on it, pretty boy," he muttered audibly, before crossing the room to enter his office.

Webber glared after him, then turned back to the rest of the staff. "I hope you make Jackson feel welcome during his week with you here, and remember to help him out if he has any questions," he said. He glanced at his watch. "Now, I'm off. Play nice." Webber exited the bullpen, leaving Jackson standing there blankly, with a crowd of journalists standing in front of him.

"April." Owen summoned his most trusted AP, who stood at attention upon the sound of her name. "Why don't you show Jackson around the newsroom and tell him what everyone's working on today? I'll be in my office. Everyone else, get back to work."

Callie knew that Owen Hunt wasn't the cheeriest of people, but he had been grumpier than usual lately. She followed him into his office, hoping to talk to him about it. She believed that there was a certain kind of openness required between journalists who work together, and if they couldn't air their own dirty laundry, what makes them worthy of airing those of others'? Or perhaps she just really liked gossipping. "So, that Avery kid, huh?" It was a harmless point to start off on.

"I don't even think he's old enough to drive at night," Owen said. "This week should end well."

"Yeah, especially as World War III seems to be erupting within our staff," Callie said.

Owen's ice blue eyes searched her face. "You trying to tell me something, Callie?"

"Are things all right between you and Teddy? You guys keep snapping at each other, and I've noticed it going on since…" she paused to think, "Arizona's housewarming party! Did something happen then?"

"Well." Owen put his hands on his hips and smirked with a hint of menace. "Look at you being able to say Arizona's name without flinching."

Callie scowled. "Owen." Low blow.

"That may have been a little bit out of line," the redheaded EP conceded with a shrug, "but hey, so was your question about me and Teddy."

"Fine!" Callie threw her hands up in the air. "So I shouldn't ask anymore, should I?"

Owen nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I think you're getting too caught up in the office gossip. It's a little bit unbecoming, seeing as you're supposed to be one of the people in charge around here, you know." He chuckled awkwardly.

"What about Mark, huh?" Callie demanded. "He's _always_  gossiping.  _I'm_  just trying to be a friend."

"Mark's Mark," Owen huffed. "Weren't you saying that you wanted to really beef up that gun control story we're planning to put in the rundown tonight?"

"Yeah." Callie backed down. "I better go do that, then."

"Yeah, you should."

"All right. I'll talk to you later." Callie pushed Owen's door open and slipped back out into the bullpen.

* * *

**4:00PM**

When she walked back to the bullpen from her meeting with the control room staff, Arizona expected everyone else to already be present in the conference room for their rundown meeting. Instead, her APs were huddled by the newsdesk, surreptitiously watching Jackson Avery.

"If he's wanting to last in the newsroom all week, he better learn to change out of a suit and into something more comfortable." Alex's brown eyes lit up in mischievous glee as they followed Jackson's movements. The poor man had been shadowing April all day, which couldn't have been fun, since everyone knew that April did a lot of literal running around for Owen and Teddy.

"Hey." Arizona snuck up behind Alex. He jumped, as did the other APs. "I know he looks like a supermodel, but we do have a rundown meeting to attend." She jerked her thumb at the direction of the conference room. "Bailey's already set up in there, and she looks pissed," she added out of the corner of her mouth. Sure enough, the nine's senior producer was seated at the conference room table, typing on her laptop, strained neck muscles indicating she was trying to ignore her tardy colleagues in a display of passive-aggressiveness.

"Yeah, she does look mad," Jo said in a low voice.

"Let's go in there, shall we?" Arizona suggested. She led them to the conference room, where they promptly took their seats. "So, we still haven't finished our discussion earlier regarding the date for the panel." Webber was pressing her to do in the next two weeks, and had asked her to advise the panelists to clear their schedules, but she hadn't even decided on a date yet.

"I think it should be this Wednesday," Bailey spoke up.

"Why?"

"The federal appeals court removed Scheindlin from the panel on the stop and frisk law last week, and ordered a judicial stay, effectively resuming the legal practice of stop and frisks by the NYPD. Add to that Bill de Blasio, who's leading the mayoral polls at the moment, who promised to 'reform stop and frisk'." Bailey lifted a finger for emphasis. "Note that he said _reform_ , not  _remove_. When he gets elected tomorrow night, be damn sure that stop and frisk is here to stay.

"We all know that, but why is Wednesday the perfect date for you?"

"If we put the panel on tomorrow, it's anticlimactic after a nationwide series of elections covered at the eight," Bailey explained easily.

Arizona considered it. "Does anyone have any objections to Bailey's argument?" she asked. The APs shook their head. "Okay… so it is written, so it shall be done! Wednesday it is." She turned to Alex. "Can you get in touch the panelists? They have to be here at eight o'clock for briefing and makeup."

"All right." Alex jotted it down in a spiral-bound notebook.

"Awesome. Moving on to the SNAP cuts… Lexie, how's our source from the city food bank?"

* * *

**8:20PM**

"Earlier today, the United States Senate has voted to reconsider the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, known as ENDA. The bill would prohibit discrimination in the workplace on the basis of sexual orientation or gender identity," Mark read the copy on the prompter fluidly, "ENDA was introduced before Congress in 1994 by Senator Ted Kennedy, but has faced tumultuous battles in the halls of the Capitol during the last nineteen years. Many activist and lobby groups have attempted to reignite the fight to pass ENDA throughout the years. They may have finally hit the jackpot this year, because with the support of the entire of Democratic caucus and even several GOP senators, ENDA is expected to pass when it comes to a vote."

"Of course, ENDA is just one in a series of anti-discrimination laws that are being contested on a federal level," Callie said. "This would reinforce the status of LGBT people as a protected class under federal law. Previously passed anti-discrimination laws significant to LGBT rights movements are those that protect from discrimination on the basis of race, gender or citizenship, just three prominent identities that often intersect in forms of activism." She watched as Mark's eyes widened slightly in surprise, which she expected. In a show like  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_ , it was in the format for anchors to improvise commentary on what had just been reported, but Callie had played it safe with her comments throughout the years. She approached her job with a different kind of fire now, though.

She and Mark, with some guidance from Owen, went back and forth on ENDA for a while until it was time for a commercial break. "Four minutes thirty seconds back," the technical director's tinny voice said through their earpieces.

" _Intersecting identities_? What?" Mark stared at her bewilderedly.

"Jackson and I talked this afternoon before the show, and he says that I could be occupying a niche in the cable news industry." Callie shot down Mark's eye roll with a glare before continuing, "Right now, there are hardly any women of colour who are anchors on prominent cable news shows on any time slots. The only one I can think of off the top of my head is Melissa Harris-Perry, and she does weekends. Jackson thinks that if my commentary can come more from my perspective as a bisexual Latina woman, then it might just get us more viewers."

"He's a pretty boy in a suit," Mark scoffed. "Why would you listen to him?"

" _You'r_ e a pretty boy in a suit, but I listen to you, even if you don't have a degree in sociology and economics from Brown," Callie retorted. "Besides, I did some research before the show, and what Jackson said checks out."

Mark looked at the camera. "What do you think of that, Owen?"

"I'm not a ratings hound, but in the interest of good journalism, I agree with Callie."

"See!" Callie smiled triumphantly. "No more arguments from you, Sloan."

On the shelf underneath the anchor's desk, her cellphone began to vibrate, and the LED light blinked. She reached for it, and taking care not to put her screen in Mark's sight line, read the message from her Google Hangouts: _I love what you said about ENDA. You must have been reading up on your Autostraddle._

Callie couldn't help but smile.

* * *

In her office back in the bullpen, Arizona couldn't help smiling either as she read Callie's reply on the Hangouts conversation box on the corner of her computer screen:  _I wouldn't have read up on it if you hadn't been tweeting a bunch of links about it today._

Arizona glanced at the screen playing HANCA on her wall. They were still on commercial break. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.  _Teddy told me that you guys were talking about it today so I figured you needed a push in the right direction._  She bit her lip. Was that too ingratiating? After all, whatever terms Callie and her were on were still pretty new. Her pinky jabbed at the backspace button.

_Teddy told me that it was in the rundown, and I was interested so I did some reading myself._  That sounded better.

_Haha,_  came Callie's reply.  _Gtg, tech director says we're back in thirty_.

_Okay._  Arizona diverted her focus from her laptop to the television. The last ad played, then it segued into  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_ 's title card, which faded to an establishing shot of Callie and Mark sitting in the studio. Arizona watched Mark's hands quickly darting from his neck to the desk, as if he was adjusting his tie before the roll in, while Callie's hands were on top of the desk, fingers lightly drumming on it.

While they launched straight into a conversation about Election Day, Arizona tuned out, her gaze returning to the laptop screen. She took in the sight of the rectangular Hangouts conversation box, with the grey panel on the top indicating whom she was conversing with displaying the name "Callie Torres".

The blonde clicked the x on the grey panel to close the Hangouts box. She blew out a breath slowly through her mouth. It had been a strange few days.

* * *

_Four nights ago_

**Thursday, 10:15PM**

The first thing that caught Callie's eye while looking around Arizona's office was that the framed photographs on the shelf along the window were free of even a speck of dust, and so was the area surrounding them. She knew that Arizona was a neat person, but she knew that her job was demanding, and probably didn't have a lot of time for meticulously wiping down a shelf.

That's when she saw the last photograph - of her, Arizona, Addison and two reporters whose names she couldn't remember. It was taken in front of the governor's mansion in New Hampshire. Arizona's arm was around her waist, and if Callie was an outsider, she would have assumed that they were already dating at the time. Upon hearing footsteps drawing closer to the office, she replaced the frame where she found it.

Seconds later, Arizona pushed her office door open. Her unbroken stride was rapid and purposeful, and Callie knew that she wanted to go home. However, she just about screeched to a halt when she noticed that someone else was in the room. She flicked on the switch, and her and Callie stared at each other in the new light. "Oh my god, Callie," she gasped. "What were you doing standing here in the dark?"

"Trick or treat?" Callie joked weakly. The nine had done a special Halloween show that night.

To her surprise, Arizona actually laughed. "That's a good one," she said. "So, how can I help you?"

"Well, uhm…" Whatever confidence Callie had mustered to merely enter the blonde EP's office was slipping away. "I- I was thinking about what you said to me that night," she spoke quickly. "During your housewarming party."

"Yeah… What about it?" The blonde's face paled and she visibly gulped, and Callie was relieved to find that she seemed to be anxious, too.

"I don't like feeling the way I did when you first came back," Callie said. "Like all the wounds from the past just opened up and started bleeding again. That's not me, you know? It's not who I like to be. So," she placed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, "I suppose I've decided that who we were ten years ago are very different to who we are now."

"Callie." Arizona tilted her head and blinked. Callie wanted to giggle; the woman often did that when she was confused. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I'm trying to say is that I don't want to be angry anymore. You're not the Arizona who left-" Not wanting to be argumentative, Callie shook her head, " _hurt_  me all those years ago. You're different now, and so am I. And I guess, instead of harbouring animosity over it, I want to have a shot at knowing Arizona 2013."

"Arizona 2013?"

"View it as a state of purgatory," Callie chucked awkwardly. "Listen, I hold no grudge with Arizona 2013, and if I get to know her, maybe it'll help me deal with my grudge with Arizona 2003."

"You are making all the sense but no sense at the same time."

Fearing rejection, Callie began to chew on her lip. "You don't understand how badly I want this to work. I just want to stop dwelling on this, Arizona. I want to feel okay in sharing a newsroom with you in the foreseeable future.  _Come on_. This is the best plan I can think of. I want to put everything in the past, just like you did. Can you just do me this one favour?"

Arizona's jaw tightened momentarily at Callie's words, but when she spoke, it was like they didn't affect her at all. "So, you're saying that we're kind of like, friends, then?"

"Uh, yeah, I suppose." Callie relaxed a bit, but couldn't help wondering why Arizona didn't take the bait with what she said, even if it obviously affected her. She stepped forward, hand held out. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Arizona 2013."

The blonde looked down curiously at the outstretched hand. But she shrugged and yielded. She took Callie's hand in hers and shook it firmly. "The pleasure is all mine, Callie 2013."

* * *

**Tuesday, 8:10PM**

The hour during  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  was typically used by the _America in Focus_  staff to polish up their show, but tonight was a different story. Because of the panel tomorrow, Arizona and her team packed Tuesday night's rundown with long pieces filed by affiliates from all over the country, giving Derek - and everyone else - minimal work to do. This way, everyone got to watch the eight's Election Day coverage, which took up the A and B block.

For news outlets, Election Day on a presidential or a midterm elections took four to six hours of coverage on the day, but on an off-year, it was a surprise if primetime news paid much attention to it at all. This year, under Webber's orders, the seven and the eight had to spend at least half their time on air talking about Election Day. Not that anyone complained. Journalists are a sucker for elections.

On the large screen hanging high above the bullpen, Mark was saying: "In Virginia, it's looking like former DNC chairman Terry McAuliffe is going to become governor-elect once all the votes have been counted. McAuliffe has had an uncontested lead in the polls over the election season, and his win would mark the first time since 1973 that Virginia will have a governor from the same party as the sitting president."

"It's interesting to note that McAuliffe is also a close friend of the Clintons," Callie jumped in, "and if Hillary Clinton wins the 2016 Democratic nomination, it would be easier for her lock in the key swing state of Virginia if McAuliffe is governor."

"Yeah, but," Mark chuckled, "let's not count our chickens before they hatch, Callie."

Callie shrugged and looked down at her papers. "Let's move onto New Jersey then," she said. "Chris Christie is the frontrunner to become governor -  _again_  - but will he seek a next term? Or is this another step towards launching his presidential campaign? What do you think, Mark?"

"Unlike the Dems, there's no shortage of candidates for the Republicans to contest their 2016 presidential nomination, but Chris Christie is definitely a standout." Mark was nodding. "Again, it's a 'don't count your chickens' situation, but if Christie wins the governorship by a landslide, it definitely shows the amount of support behind him, which is threatening to other aspiring Republican nominees."

Back in the bullpen, Alex walked up next to Arizona. He was eating a slice of some pizza that Webber bought for everyone in the newsroom working that night. "God, I love Election Day," he said. "I wish Election Day was every day."

Arizona raised an eyebrow. "Because of the free pizza - which is probably your first and only meal today - or because all you had to do for tonight was make phone calls?" she asked.

"Both." Alex was smirking. "But seriously, Callie and Mark are killing it up there. And they're just vamping!"

"Yeah, it's pretty amazing, huh?" Arizona said. Her eyes observed Callie on the screen. She was animatedly discussing the mayoral elections in Seattle, and although Arizona couldn't concentrate on what she was saying, she thought she heard the phrase, "Battle of the Progressives" in there.

The AP beside her was equally absorbed on what was happening on the screen. "You know, this is the sort of stuff I was most looking forward to doing when I decided to become a journalist," he mused.

On the screen, Callie was listening as Mark finished a point about Mike McGinn's public persona. She responded with an evenly delivered counterargument. Callie turned out to be a skilled, old hand with the cut and thrust of primetime political commentary. Arizona wished that she had been there to see her evolve.

* * *

**Wednesday, 9:30PM**

"And, roll in."

"The New York stop and frisk law was granted a judicial stay by the federal appeals court on the thirty-first of October on the grounds that Judge Shira Scheindlin violated the judicial code of impartiality when she ruled the law unconstitutional. Just to recap, the New York stop and frisk law allowed police officers to stop and question pedestrians on the street and search them for weapons or other illegal material on their person," Derek said. "Several judges have remarked that there is an alarming number of stop and frisk searches that were conducted without reasonable suspicion of criminal activity. Organisations have also voiced that the stop and frisk law further contributes to the establishment of a police state, and that it is straightforward racial profiling."

Sitting on a low, rickety stool at the back of the control room, Callie watched as Arizona leaned over the console. "Have we got Camera 2 lined up to pan?" the blonde asked. The board operator pointed to a screen. "Yup, looks good," Arizona said, nodding. She turned to another staff member: "Zoom Camera 3 out to show the entire panel, switch straight away after the introductions." The assistant director pressed a few buttons on her console until the EP was satisfied. "Good, thanks."

Derek finished introducing the panelists and asked them to make their opening statements regarding their views on stop and frisk. While this was going on, Arizona turned around, bottle of water in hand, presumably to talk to Bailey. Her eyes widened when she spotted Callie.

Callie knew that the blonde was very adamant on her privacy inside the control room, which she considered sacrosanct while she was working on a show. Especially a show as important as this one. Nevertheless, Callie begged Bailey to sneak her inside in time to see Arizona produce the panel.

Arizona didn't seem like she was going to say anything any time soon, so Callie told her, "I just dropped by to see what's going on in here. You're doing great." She stood up. "I'll head back to the bullpen now."

Her steps were paused by the sound of Arizona's voice: "Callie, no. Stay." When Callie swivelled her head to make eye contact with her, she said, "Honestly, don't leave. I'm cool with it, really."

Callie swore that every one in the control room had a sharp intake of breath at their EP's words. "You sure you want me to stay?" she asked Arizona.

"Well, you better take a seat before I change my mind." The blonde's attention returned to the screens.

Bailey stared at Callie disbelievingly. After lowering herself back on the stool, Callie couldn't do anything but shrug.

* * *

The show closed to applause and cheers from the control room. On her way to the studio, Arizona was met by a grinning Mark Sloan. "That was possibly the best half hour of television I've ever seen this year, and I covered Election Day yesterday." He shook his phone in Arizona's face. "Twitter has gone wild!"

"Remind me to check my mentions later," Arizona said, waving him off.

"Or better yet, check Derek's mentions," Mark cackled, still continuing to walk alongside the EP. "Hey, does your girl- " he cleared his throat, "I mean, Lauren Boswell, does she have a Twitter? She was on fire tonight!"

"I don't know, Mark." She pushed the door to the studio open.

"What, you've been seeing her for a some weeks now and you still don't know if she has a Twitter or not? What kind of twenty-first century woman are you?"

"Well, Mark, you see," Arizona leaned towards him conspiratorially, "Lauren and I do far more interesting things than discussing our online presences."

"Arizona!" Mark admonished mockingly, before leaning forward himself. "Do tell me more."

Someone from behind them cleared their throat. They stepped back from each other and sought out the source of the sound. Both their jaws slackened, but Mark was the first to recover. "Hey Callie," he said. "I thought you'd already gone home. Where have you been all night?"

"I was in the control room," Callie said.

"Ah." Mark nodded understandingly. "Arizona granted you a special audience to her hallowed control room, then?"

The dark-haired woman turned to Arizona. "About that, thanks for letting me sit in tonight. You were great. Like a maestro at work," she said genuinely.

An arm slid around Arizona's shoulders, and she felt lips peck her on the cheek. "Hey, superstar," Lauren's throaty voice murmured in her ear. "You did well tonight." She turned to the two anchors. "Callie's right about you being a maestro."

Arizona broke eye contact with Callie. Her hands hand gotten clammy and she could feel her heart hammering violently against her chest. "Oh, she's flattering me," she said. "Besides, Mark here thought that _you_  were on fire."

Lauren shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I did my best." She pulled Arizona closer to her. "When do you get off?"

Mark suppressed a snort, then yelped when Callie nudged him in the ribs.

"I have to debrief Derek, thank the panelists and debrief the APs," Arizona enumerated.

"Let's go for a drink after?" Lauren suggested. "My treat."

Arizona beamed at her. "You got it. Come on, Lauren, I wanna go talk to Derek." Nodding briefly at Callie and Mark, she let Lauren lead her back to the anchor's desk.

* * *

**Thursday, 8:00PM**

As soon as the title theme faded out, Callie launched straight into the introduction. "Good evening. It's Thursday, the seventh of November. I'm Callie Torres."

"And I'm Mark Sloan," Mark said. "You're watching  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_."

"Today, history is made as the United States Senate passes the Employment Non-Discrimination Act. Finally, there is federal legislation protecting LGBTQ workers from discrimination from employers," Callie said. "All fifty-two Senate Democrats and two independents, along with ten Republicans voted to pass the bill."

"Joining us tonight to discuss ENDA is lawyer and activist Urvashi Vaid, who is the current Director of the Engaging Tradition Project at Columbia Law School's Centre for Gender and Sexuality Law," Mark said. They both greeted a slim, middle-aged Indian woman with short, greying hair seated at the end of the anchor desk. "Good evening, Ms Vaid, it's nice of you to join us tonight."

They went to break when the discussion wrapped up. Callie and Mark thanked Urvashi Vaid profusely before Leah came to take her back to the dressing room. When they were alone in the studio again, Callie turned to Mark, "You know, that Jackson Avery has been hovering around the newsroom way too much. It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, don't mind him," Mark told his friend. "He's a good kid."

"You were calling him a pretty boy in a suit not too long ago!"

"Yes, I did." Mark nodded. "But Jackson and I had a conversation about my future as an anchor, and I must say, the kid is onto something. First impressions can certainly be misleading." He watched Callie huff in frustration. "Hey, you thought I was just a piece of ass, a sex plaything, when we first met, but look, we're best friends now! And it all started with that one night stand."

"Guys." Owen's voice awkwardly crackled through their earpieces. "The entire control room can hear you. And you got two minutes before you're coming back."

"Pretend you didn't hear that," Callie addressed the nearest camera.

"You probably should have said that when Arizona was still in the control room, not that it would have made her feel better." Owen's retort was glum and devoid of snark, but it didn't fail to make Callie's heart drop anyway.

* * *

**Friday, 12:00AM**

An episode of _Law & Order: SVU_ was playing on Arizona's laptop when her phone began to ring from her bedside table. She reached over to grab it and sighed when she saw the name on the screen. It was a Hangouts call from Callie. Reluctantly, she accepted.

Callie's face appeared on the screen, slightly pixelated and dimly lit. "Did I wake you?" she asked.

"Nope." Arizona jabbed the mute button on her computer. "I was just watching some Mariska Hargitay to unwind."

"You still watch SVU?" Callie asked amusedly. Because of their odd working hours, they used to tape the episode, then sit together every week and watched it back when they were living together.

"Of course I do. I bet you stopped watching when Christopher Meloni left."

"Can you blame me? The guy was hot."

Arizona chuckled. "So, why are you calling me this time of night, Callie?"

"Haven't you looked at the time?" Callie asked. "Happy birthday! I just thought I'd greet you."

Arizona peered at the clock on her laptop. It was indeed midnight, the eighth of November, which meant that it was officially her thirty-ninth birthday. She raised an eyebrow at her phone. "Callie 2013 knows Arizona 2013's birthday?" It was surprising how quick it was for the two of them to fall back to the old routine of banter.

"Let's just pretend that Arizona 2013's birthday is readily available online and Callie 2013 got to see it and decided that she wanted to do something nice," Callie said.

"I appreciate it, Cal, but I don't celebrate my birthday anymore," Arizona said.

"What? You liked throwing parties!" Callie exclaimed. "Remember your twenty-seventh?" In 2001, Arizona invited fifteen people for a gathering in her apartment in DC. Twice as many people ended up attending, and once Arizona had shaken off her hangover, she spent the rest of the week cleaning up spilt booze and vomit in surfaces she never expected to find them. Callie was the only who volunteered to help her. For obvious reasons.

Arizona shrugged. "I haven't celebrated my birthday, since, you know…" she wordlessly referred to her and Callie's breakup ten years ago. "Also, being in a conflict zone for years afterwards doesn't exactly add to the birthday cheer."

Callie pursed her lips as she considered it. "Fair enough," she finally said. "So, if you're not celebrating your birthday, that must mean Lauren isn't doing anything for you."

"Who says I wanted her to?" Arizona asked coldly. "She doesn't even know it's my birthday." When she saw Callie wince at her tone, she backtracked. "She's taking me to a dinner though. I need to put on a cocktail dress, which I haven't done in months."

"Oh, just the two of you?"

"No, I think it's an NYCLU event," Arizona replied. "Nevertheless, there will be champagne, so I will probably enjoy it."

There was momentary hesitation evident in Callie's face before she blurted out: "You were amazing in the control room on Wednesday, by the way," she said. "Thanks again for letting me sit in. It was so great to watch you."

Arizona brushed the comment off. "It was nothing, really. Not compared to what you pulled off on Election Night," she said. "Or just tonight with the ENDA stuff. I get to watch you every night and I'm still in awe." She was aware that what she said was too revealing, too close for comfort for two people who contrived to get to know each other as strangers again, but she didn't want to retract it.

"Thanks." Callie looked down meekly. "Look, about what you heard in the control room -"

"Callie, it's fine," Arizona interrupted. "You did it after the two of us had broken up."

"I probably did it too soon after we had broken up," Callie muttered.

"Yeah?" Even though she knew that the answer would probably sting, Arizona couldn't help herself. "When?"

"I met him at the HANCA New Year's Eve bash. In 2003."

"Right." Arizona's stomach sank, but she persevered with her cheerful tone. "See, I was already in Lahore by then. Besides, it looks like Mark and you are the best of platonic friends now, and even if that thing was born out of a one night stand, you still can't let go of good friends like him. It's okay, honestly. I don't bear any ill feeling towards Callie 2003 rightfully seeking a rebound after I left her."

"Arizona 2003 left her," Callie corrected.

No, I left you, Arizona thought. But "Yeah," was what came out of her mouth.

"So," Callie prepared to change the subject, "Owen and Teddy are still giving each other the freeze. Do you think it had something to do with Teddy's date during your housewarming party? He was cute."

"Yeah, he really was," Arizona said. "I can't imagine a world with Owen and Teddy not talking to each other, though. They've been really tight since Iraq."

"Did you know if they ever…?"

"No!" Arizona laughed. "Hell no, and even if they did, they didn't do it while they were embedded with anyone. They would've been found out right away. But they were so close. Experiences like that just bond you, you know. I mean, they were close to the soldiers - I saw that with my own eyes - but they were especially close to one another. It was a rather symbiotic relationship."

"You think Owen's just jealous because he's not the only man in Teddy's life anymore?"

"I think he's jealous because for years, he assumed that he was the only man in Teddy's life. I don't know. I don't want to make any judgements," Arizona said. But naturally, she was finding it easier to talk about other people than talk about herself or talk about Callie right now. "But they'll find a way to sort it out. They have to. They're Owen and Teddy."

"Yeah." Callie's voice was distant. "Hey, I'm beat. I better go to bed."

"That's a good idea," Arizona agreed.

"Happy birthday again," Callie said. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"You too."

"Enjoy your date with Mariska."

"I will." Arizona beamed. "Good night, Callie."

"Good night, Arizona." The screen went black.

Arizona placed her phone on the nightstand. As she stretched out in her bed, she thought about the state of limbo she and Callie had decided to put themselves in. It was good to be talking like friends again, but it was hard to sweep away their two years of love and trust, let alone her last decade of loneliness, guilt and regret.

Getting to know each other after those ten years turned out to be a painful process of trying to acknowledge the life they lived without the other. But Arizona had a sneaking suspicion that they weren't going to address those issues any time soon.

* * *

**12:30PM**

The Chief's secretary Patricia came to fetch the anchors and the executive producers of the eight and nine from the newsroom, and she too was the one who ushered them into Webber's large executive office.

"This better be quick," Callie said. "I promised Bailey that I'd set up the livestream of bell hooks and Melissa Harris-Perry at The New School on my office for us to watch."

"Oh, she invited me to that," Arizona told her. "Should I invite Teddy, too?"

"Sure." They both turned to see that Webber was already seated behind the desk.

"What's happening, Chief?" Mark asked.

"We're just waiting for Jackson. He's got some news," Webber said. He gestured to the variety of seating places in his office. "Make yourselves comfortable. I can get Patricia to get some beverages if you like?"

Owen shook his head impatiently while everyone else moved around the room to take their seats. Callie and Mark sat together on a loveseat by Webber's window, while Derek and Arizona took the chairs right across from the Chief's desk. "What Jackson has to say shouldn't take too long, right?" the eight's EP asked.

"I'll take it that that's a no from everyone?" Webber's dark eyes scanned the room for responses. "All right then."

Jackson entered the office. He was dressed down today; the slim-fitting Italian-made suits had been exchanged for a light blue Oxford cloth shirt and brown chinos. Callie thought that he looked more like an art director for a trendy lifestyle magazine than an heir to a multibillion dollar media empire.

"Good afternoon everyone," he said. "Thanks for coming in."

"Jackson has some good news," Webber interjected, sounding like a peacemaking grandfather.

"Your ratings have been down this week. You usually hit third after Fox and MSNBC in your respective time slots, but this week you've been trailing slightly behind CNN," Jackson said. "Maybe Anderson Cooper's just working some gimmick or something, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. We'll see again next week."

An uneasiness blanketed the atmosphere. Derek appeared particularly unhappy.

"Observing your work in the newsroom has been a really interesting experience for me," Jackson said. "I've come out of it thinking that I should appreciate journalists more. I also have a couple of changes to recommend regarding operations in the newsroom."

"Hang on." Owen was the only one, save for Jackson, in the room who was standing. "You don't think that we run the newsroom well enough? It's obviously worked for us this week. You've got evidence right there."

"They're just suggestions, Owen," Callie said, in an attempt to defuse the irritable EP.

"She's right, Owen," Derek said evenly. "Let's hear them first, yeah?"

Owen relaxed. "All right, Jackson, what do you recommend?"

"Well," the younger man shifted uneasily, a sure sign that what he was about to say wasn't going to be well-received by Owen. "The first thing I'm going to say is a recommendation that's totally non-binding, but  _strongly_  recommended, and the second thing I'm going to say must be done." He glanced at Webber. "These are recommendations that have been given the okay by administration. We'll hold a meeting to sort everything out later, after everyone's had a think about it."

"Don't leave us hanging," Mark urged.

"We'd like to recommend that the eight and nine move to the DC bureau."

A shocked silence fell over the other people in the room, including Webber, who was glowering incredulously at the younger man.

Arizona spoke up first: "Out of the question!"

"I said we'll discuss this later." Jackson attempted to be firm, but his voice faltered at the end of his sentence when met by the hardened blue eyes and the tense jaw of the blonde EP. "Ma'am," he added hastily.

"What you're about to tell us to do can't be any more drastic, then," Mark said. "Bring it."

"I've consulted with people from operations, and we've all agreed that America in Focus is understaffed, and it needs a new staff member ASAP. But since there's a hiring freeze on entry- and mid-level employees for the rest of the year," Jackson gulped as he looked Owen straight in the eye, "I think that an AP from  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  should transfer permanently to the nine."

The relief amongst the journalists was palpable. A small reshuffle in staff, they could handle, but a transfer to another city?

"Richard, seriously, you don't have any say in this?" Derek asked.

Webber raised his hands in absolution. "These are all coming from the top, guys," he told them. "If I had contributed anything, I doubt it was seriously taken into consideration. I'm a journalist, not a businessman."

"Which is why they should have asked for your input." Derek appeared indignant.

"Which one?" Owen asked icily. Jackson looked at him confusedly. "Which AP?"

"That's up to you and Arizona to decide," he responded.

"Oh, we get to make decisions now?" Owen scoffed.

The two executive producers caught each other's gaze. The format of  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  was markedly different from that of  _America in Focus_. Whoever was going to be transferred had to be above average, which meant that Owen could be losing one of his better APs, at Arizona's insistence. But that was nothing compared to the fight on their hands over their newsroom.


	10. Obligations

**Monday, 12:30PM**

Most people looking in from the outside thought that anchors were the insufferable ones. In fact, it was the executive producers who were the real divas. Jackson Avery was realising this today, as he stood next to Richard Webber, watching the executive producers of  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  and  _America in Focus_  decide which of the associate producers would be shifting to the other show.

Owen turned to Arizona and shrugged. "Who do you want?"

"I want April," Arizona responded.

"What?" Owen sputtered. "You can't have April! She's my best! That's like," he paused to think, "that's like if I told you that I want Alex."

"That's exactly why I want her," Arizona said evenly. "I run my show a bit differently to what most APs are used to, and I think that April is the only one adaptable enough to exceed my expectations." News teams were formed built on trust and compatible skills.

The redhead folded his arms. "You can't have her."

Arizona looked at Webber. "Chief," she implored. "Let me have April Kepner."

"Not my decision, Arizona," Webber said. He looked at Owen. "What about Meredith?"

"I'm not having Meredith Grey on my staff," Arizona spoke before the other EP did, her voice hard. She didn't like talking to authority figures like this, but if Mr Efficiency wanted her to poach an AP, then she had to do what she had to do. "Between her and Cristina, I won't have anything done on time."

"How about Shane Ross?" Webber asked.

Arizona was shaking her head. "Too much of a gunner." As far as she knew, Shane was the furthest thing from a team player, and he and Alex would probably get into frequent disagreements. She also disliked the way he stared at Cristina like some sort of predator stalking his prey. A shark, perhaps. Although Cristina was a shark too. She shook her head again. It was just _weird_.

The older man scowled. "Stephanie Edwards?" he asked, interrupting Arizona's train of thought.

"Not Stephanie," Owen objected. "She's being mentored by Meredith and they're working really well together."

Clearly tired of it all, Webber sighed and drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk.

"Leah Murphy is quite good," Owen told Arizona, both of them aware of the Chief's shortening fuse. "Not  _stellar_ , but her work is faultless and she's only like, two years out of J school so she's malleable enough to adapt to how things work in your team. And she is probably the most driven one out of the junior APs. Pretty much a machine when it comes to organising the logistical side of things."

"Which J school?" Her interest was piqued now.

"Grady, at the University of Georgia."

"She was one of our summer interns when I was still the EP at the nine. I remember assigning her to work under Bailey," Webber offered helpfully. His voice no longer had a hard edge to it; he must be glad that Owen and Arizona appeared to be coming to a conclusion.

"Could be worse. All right," Arizona said, nodding. "I'll take Leah."

"Good." Owen smiled at her. Tight, but agreeable. He'd get over this later.

With this decision made, Webber and Jackson had both relaxed visibly for the first time since the two EPs had walked into Webber's office. "Okay then," Webber said. "Glad this is settled. Owen, do you want to inform Leah that she starts at the nine when we come back for Thanksgiving?"

Owen nodded. "Will do." He looked at Arizona and both of them got themselves together to go back to the bullpen.

"Uh, there's just one more thing," Jackson spoke up. He felt immediately discomfited when two pairs of blue eyes stared him down.

"I've got a rundown meeting to get to," Owen said. "What is it?"

"Well, uhm." Jackson cleared his throat. "Administration is pretty adamant to have the two shows transfer to our DC bureau. Nothing's final yet but you two will be the first to know."

"I thought that was just a  _suggestion_." Owen emphasised the word.

"Not anymore, I'm afraid," Jackson said. "Operations has consulted with management and it's consensus that the eight and the nine would be better suited to be broadcasted from DC."

"You can't do that to a flagship show, which is what _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_  is," Owen said. "Is this a ratings thing? Because we get higher ratings than anybody on this network. Sure, we trail Anderson Cooper from time to time, but we beat him most weeks."

"And I hardly think that moving a good show to DC would be a  _reward_  for being the highest rating show from HANCA," Arizona supplemented. She felt too shell-shocked to start defending her own show. "If it is a ratings problem, then I think that's the network's problem, not the show's."

"It's not a ratings problem. And if it really is the flagship then it shouldn't matter if it's broadcasted from DC or from New York, right?" Jackson asked tentatively. "It's even in the same time zone."

She rose to her feet. "Of course it fucking matters!" It was about status. No flagships were borne out of the DC bureaus of cable news, they were all borne out of New York. You can't compete with Maddow or with O'Reilly or with Cooper if you don't frequent the same scene as them.

" _Arizona_!" Webber interjected.

"Sorry, Chief." She returned to her seated position, taking deep breaths. "Jackson," she was much calmer this time. "Transferring to DC would mean that you're uprooting at least twenty people's lives."

"Harper Avery Media will compensate them accordingly."

"I'm sorry," Owen said, "but I don't think we're gonna let this happen easily." He stood up and gestured for Arizona to do the same. The blonde obliged. "I don't mean to be dramatic, but… if you want to take us to DC, you're going to have to drag us there, kicking and screaming. Now, we've got some work to do, don't we, Arizona?"

"Yeah, we do." Owen gestured for her to leave the room first, and so she did.

* * *

**Tuesday, 2:45PM**

Bailey was walking around the newsroom with a goofy smile on her face, and it confused Callie. She was aware that many of the younger staff members thought Bailey was grumpy and intimidating - and indeed, she can be - but the two of them had been friends for so long that Callie knew there was a different side to the woman. However, the smile on Bailey's face was of an unusual quality.

"Hey, Bailey!" Callie cheerfully sidled up the woman. Now she saw that Bailey's smile was directed at her phone screen. "Care to tell me why you look so happy?"

Her smile not faltering one bit, Bailey looked up. "It's a good news day. I love this job!"

"Yeah?" Callie craned her neck to see the screen, but she couldn't see anything but an email. "What's that?"

"You know how last night, the nine did coverage of the march in honour of Tyler Clementi?" Bailey waited for Callie to nod in affirmation. The late young man's family and friends had teamed up with several LGBTQ organisations to remember his untimely death - and the campaign against anti-cyberbullying that followed it - with a march over George Washington Bridge. "Well, Tyler's parents sent the show an email saying how much they appreciated the angle we took on the story."

"Wow, that's great!" Callie understood Bailey's happiness. It was emails like those that made the job feel so worthwhile. And unfortunately, they came about rarely. "What have you got planned for tonight?"

"Derek's interviewing a climate scientist about a report on rising sea levels around the southeast coast of the country," Bailey replied. "I think we're also going to be asking him about the typhoon in the Philippines, too. But Arizona's a little hesitant about pursuing that because of the already established. We don't want to be  _that_  news show, you know?"

"Hmm." A thought came to Callie's mind. "Where's Arizona now?"

"She might be in the break room. Why?" The senior producer raised an eyebrow.

"All right." Callie smiled, purposely ignoring the question. "Thanks, Bailey." She turned on her heel and headed for the direction of the break room. Sure enough, Arizona was there, inspecting a fruit basket. "The bananas look particularly good today," Callie said.

Arizona's eyes shot up. "Callie." She looked at the fruit basket again. "You're right, I think I'll take a banana today." She picked one up and began to unwrap it. "Although, somebody needs to tell Webber to keep a box of assorted Munchkins in the fridge."

"Munchkins?" Callie laughed.

"You know, the Dunkin Donut ones." Arizona took a bite of banana. "I mean, fruit is good, and so are croissants, but sometimes, you just really need a donut. Even a bite sized one."

"You haven't kicked the donut habit yet?" Callie knew that Arizona had a tendency to crave donuts when she was stressed. Either that or she smoked. Or both. "What's bothering you, Arizona?" She didn't mean for it come off in such a concerned tone, but the slightly troubled look in the blonde's eyes - not to mention her furrowed brow - was making her wonder.

"How did you -" the blonde started on a question, but then killed it with a shake of her head. "I was just thinking about something," she waved vaguely with her free hand, "I became EP at a not-so-cruisey time for cable news, huh?"

"You know what they say: What's a grander entrance than having your first two weeks producing news during a government shutdown?" Callie joked. "Bailey told me you got good reception for the report on the march for Tyler Clementi. That's great."

"Yeah." Arizona grinned. "I'm proud of that story." She finished her banana and put the peel in the trash can. "Do you want me to make you some coffee, Callie?"

"Oh, you're a barista now?"

"No, you push buttons on that machine, duh." The blonde nodded at the fancy machine on the counter.

Callie couldn't help but laugh again. "No, I'm good on the coffee front." She collected herself. "Hey, Bailey mentioned something about a climate scientist coming on the show tonight? You gonna ask them about Haiyan?"

"The reports say that there's no causal link to climate change." Arizona was really tense. With nothing to occupy them, her hands were twisting together restlessly. "I don't want to beat a dead horse."

But Callie knew by the way Arizona was chewing on the inside of her cheek that she wanted more. "Do you honestly think that it's a dead horse?" she asked quietly.

"No." Arizona's voice was just as quiet.

"Then keep beating it." Their eyes' held each other for a few seconds. From across the room, Callie recalled the nights they spent looking into each other's eyes, and how Arizona's were, on occasion, quick to fill with emotion - betraying her customary guardedness. Callie blinked, promptly snapping herself out of it.

The blonde was jarred by the broken eye contact, too. "Do you wanna go up to the roof?" she blurted out. She made for the exit.

"Why?" Callie asked after her.

"I want to go for a smoke."

"Daughter of a Marine… I didn't think you'd be the one to break rules," Callie said.

"You can break rules if you can find a way around them. Which I can." It was said with the hubris of someone who had previously gotten away with it. Already halfway out the doorway, the EP pulled a thin cylinder out of her pocket. "I'm trying to quit the real thing, because Timothy got me this e-cig for my birthday. You think I should put a menthol cartridge in?" she teased. "It would have me smelling like a vat of breath mints by the time I get back."

Callie crinkled her nose. "What do you wanna smell like breath mints for?"

"To be kissable, silly."

"Oh." Callie gulped. She wasn't sure if Arizona had been joking or flirting or whatever. It unnerved her.

Arizona's laugh nipped the tension in the bud. "You know where to find me, Callie."

* * *

**9:15PM**

Doctor Keith Balling did not look like an academic. He had slicked back hair the colour of bright yellow straw, a bespoke suit that must have cost him upwards of a thousand dollars and a wristwatch that would have cost him more. Doctor Balling smiled... were those veneers that Arizona just saw? Maybe it was the grainy quality of the Skype call.

She was getting distracted. Doctor Balling had Derek going in a circle of questions, confirming and reconfirming data, and not getting into any depth at all. The scientist was so media savvy that Arizona had given up on pestering Derek to direct the power in the conversation back to him.

Until she replayed her earlier conversation with Callie.  _Do you honestly think it's a dead horse?_  the woman had asked. Arizona's eyes flicked up to the screens, where Derek appeared smaller and smaller by the second. She glanced over her shoulder at Bailey, who was looking at her with a pained expression.

 _Then keep beating it_ , Callie had told her. Should she? She should. Turning back to the screen, she spoke into her mouthpiece, "You shouldn't be letting him run away with it, Derek," she said. "Circle back to Haiyan. Tap your pen if you copy."

The anchor tapped his pen discreetly. His expression had changed, from one of quiet defeat and desperation to one of relief. "I'm sorry, Doctor Balling, you haven't answered my question about the link between climate change and Typhoon Haiyan," he said. "The viewers would like an answer to that, please."

A hint of a smirk was on Doctor Balling's lips. "As others in the climate science community have already pointed out, there is  _no causal link_  between climate change and Typhoon Haiyan. A tropical storm on the scale of Haiyan's is uncommon but not unusual. Cyclical changes in temperature means that every few centuries, the ocean near the equator will be hot enough produce something like this." Unmistakably satisfied with himself, he leaned back in his chair, anticipating Derek's reply.

Derek was nodding. "All right, well, that makes the most sense." Arizona could pick up on the tremors in his voice. She knew that he thought this line of questioning was going to be a bust.

Bailey shoved a legal pad at Arizona. There was a mishmash of handwriting on the page, including not only the senior producer's, but also from all of her APs. "Can you ask our dear doctor what he'll make of the fact that at the current body count," Arizona squinted at an underlined sentence on the page, in Lexie's handwriting, "Haiyan is currently the third deadliest typhoon in Philippine history?"

Her eyes widened when she read Lexie's addendum underneath:  _6 of PH's top 10 deadliest typhoons have occurred in the last ten years_. "Derek!" Arizona exclaimed, before relaying this piece of information to him. This was it. They could take control back from Balling and finish the interview on a righteous note.

But on the screen, Derek didn't look like he was going to do what his EP told him to do. "Well, thank you for your time, Doctor Balling," he wrapped up pleasantly. Arizona began to see red while watching him.

"Thank _you_  for having me." Balling's smile was handsome, but in her anger, all Arizona could see was arrogance. The control room's board operator removed him from the screen behind Derek. Doctor Balling mock saluted people he didn't see before hanging up. Arizona really hated him at that moment.

Derek turned back to the camera with a smile of his own - it was strained. "That was Doctor Keith Balling, a leading climate change researcher at the Columbia University's Earth Institute," he said. "This is _America in Focus_ , and we'll be back after the break."

"Four minutes and thirty seconds back," the technical director muttered into his mouthpiece. He was looking at Arizona - who was staring at the screens in disbelief, her fists balled up - cautiously.

Arizona tugged down on her headset so that it was resting around her neck and shoulders. She unplugged it from its battery pack for good measure. "Can you mute the studio, please?" she asked the technical director. "I just want to have a word with Derek." She nodded curtly at Bailey before marching out of the control room, and into the studio.

The anchor was scrolling on his phone, pretending that he hadn't seen Arizona come in, when the blonde stood right next to the anchor's chair, glowering down at him. "What the _hell_  was that?" she practically screamed.

"I asked him about the coastal flooding then asked about Haiyan. And I got my answer," Derek said. "I did want you wanted."

"You didn't." Arizona's voice was simmering with barely contained displeasure. "You didn't follow up."

"Arizona, the man has two doctorates and has published extensively on climate science," Derek said. "He merely corroborated what others in the industry have said about the link. And we should just trust his judgement."

"The only doctorate that man has is in _bullshit_. We have no statement from any scientist addressing the facts that have been brought up," Arizona said. "They say one thing but haven't said anything on the fact that six of the ten deadliest storms in the Philippines happened in the last ten years. What's their explanation for that, huh?"

"I'm sure they have one -"

"If they did, then you failed to get it out of Balling tonight!" Arizona cut him off indignantly. "Where's that fire you had when you interviewed Pelosi? I told you then that we're in this business to hold politicians accountable. I want to expand on that. We're in this business to hold everyone we put on our screen accountable. We're in this business to give the audience the truth that they deserve!"

"Oh, shut the _hell_  up, Arizona," Derek snapped. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair, but stopped, as if he just remembered that it had a tonne of hair product in it. His hand slammed down on the anchor's desk instead. "You waltz in here after ten years of not even being in the country thinking you can dictate why we're in this business. This isn't the BBC anymore. This is cable news, and we have  _other_  obligations."

"You're whining about me making your show better? Making your staff work better? Just because you have a _ratings_  obligation?" Arizona huffed and wagged a finger at Derek, who had opened his mouth. "Hell yes, I know it's a ratings obligation! Jesus Christ, Derek, you really want to compromise good journalism because you want to justify your two million dollar a year paycheck?"

"Don't be a hypocrite. You left the BBC because this job was cushy by comparison."

"No, I took this job so you and I can be doing a public service for once in our lives," Arizona said.

Derek laughed sardonically. "Gimme a break with your 'we are storytellers' crap. We know you got a Peabody, but no one _really_  gives a fuck," he said. "Listen up, this game we're playing here? It's cable news, it's money and the average American doesn't like seeing an oiled up schmuck drilling a respected scientist like the schmuck knows more than the other guy does."

The words stung. Arizona suppressed a cringe, and was preparing an irate retort when the studio door swung open. Alex poked his head in. His eyes darted from the anchor to the EP. "Everything okay?" he asked, sensing the tension in the room.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Arizona lied. "What's up?"

"Bailey sent me to tell you that we're back in two," Alex told her. His brown eyes shone with understanding, and Arizona knew that there was a possibility that he had been in the control room for most of her and Derek's screaming match. "And that you should probably turn your headset back on."

"Okay. Thanks, Alex." Arizona took a deep breath. She turned back to Derek as soon as Alex closed the door. "You and I are talking about this at some point," she told him a much calmer voice. "Not tonight. But at some point." She set her headset up to work and made her way back to the control room, leaving Derek in the studio slightly out of breath from his ranting, and with the shoulders of his suit crinkled from his gesticulating.

Bailey gave Arizona a sympathetic look upon the EP's return to the control room. The technical director nodded at her. "One minute, Derek," he said. As the last two commercials played, the room was deathly silent.

At the tail end of the final commercial: "Five seconds, roll in."

Derek's voice was hoarse when he came back on air: "Welcome back to _America in Focus_."

* * *

**10:30PM**

"Another red wine, please," Callie told the nearest bartender as she watched Teddy slide off her bar stool to go to the bathroom. Her rift with Owen still causing a hostile working environment amongst the staff of the eight, so Callie had decided to to take the senior producer out for a drink to see if she'll attempt to sort it out on her end. So far, to no avail.

Callie opened Google Hangouts on her phone. You done at work? _Perhaps you can join me and Teddy for drinks - trying to do an Owen intervention, need backup!_  She sent it to Arizona. The bartender slid a glass of red wine towards her and she readily sipped it as she waited for her LED to blink.

 _Sorry Callie, I'm beat_ , came Arizona's reply.  _Good luck with Teddy though._

 _Are you okay?_  Callie frowned.

_I just had a rough go of things with Derek tonight. I'm sure we'll kiss and make up tomorrow._

_Oh? I didn't see tonight's show_ , Callie wrote.  _Sorry that anchors can be such drama queens._

 _It's okay, I can handle it_ , Arizona replied.  _Why are you sending me messages? Not that I'm complaining, I just thought you were with Teddy._

 _She's in the bathroom_. Callie craned her neck to see if the tall blonde had emerged from the bathroom at all. Not yet. Three glasses of wine will do that to you.

 _LOL!_  Callie couldn't help but giggle when she imagined Arizona saying the expression out loud.  _Good luck again. I'm just getting in a cab home now. See you tomorrow. Night._

 _Night!_  Callie put her phone away just when Teddy arrived back at the bar.

The blonde looked at her. "What are you grinning like that for?" she asked grouchily. Her arms were folded, as if expecting another round of nagging from her friend.

Self-consciously, Callie covered her mouth with a hand. "Nothing." But her grin didn't disappear.

* * *

**Wednesday, 11:10PM**

Arizona grabbed the lone bottle of beer sitting in her fridge. She drank more than usual in the past few days, since Jackson dropped the bomb on the proposed changes. She cracked the beer open and took a long drag before walking over to the couch, where Lauren was seated.

Lauren's eyes flicked up to meet hers. "What's up, babe?" She put her book away and patted the space on the couch next to her.

"Derek and I are fighting." Arizona dropped her body on the couch.

"Oh," Lauren said. "Is that something to worry about?"

"No, it happens between anchors and EPs sometimes," Arizona said. "I just can't figure out why he didn't tell me that he didn't like the way I was running things sooner, you know? Just when I was thinking that it was working out great." She kneaded her brow with a knuckle as a realisation came to her. If she and Derek turned out to be professionally incompatible, that would be more justification for Harper Avery Media to move the show to DC. And possibly leave her behind.

"I'm sorry, but you look cute when you're stressed," Lauren said.

"Really?" She couldn't remember the last time she ran a brush through her hair, or the last time she got eight hours of sleep.

Lauren opened her arms. "Come here," she said.

Arizona shimmied down the couch to envelop herself in the taller blonde's embrace. She nestled her head on Lauren's shoulder. Her arms were a good, comforting fit. She turned her face and kissed Lauren softly.

"Did that make you feel better?" Lauren smiled at her.

"Hmm." Arizona rotated her body so that her front was flush against Lauren's side. "I could do with some more."

Lauren grinned. "Gladly," she said, before leaning in for another kiss. When they pulled away, she stared at Arizona, before saying, "I've got something to ask you."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"We've been seeing each other for around a month now," Lauren said. "I'm still not quite sure what we are." She swallowed. "I guess what I'm trying to ask is that… Are we official? Like are we a couple?"

"Oh." Arizona blinked at her, not sure how to answer the question.

"Do you want to be official?" Lauren restated. The low, husky undertones of her voice ignited the pit of Arizona's stomach.

Lauren's face - from her bright green eyes to the way she set her cheekbones - conveyed expectation. Arizona was so close to her that she could smell the faint flowery scent of her shampoo, and she could trace the rough lines where her lips were chapped. Lauren was beautiful, there was no other word for it. She was also seductive, intelligent and damn good in bed. There may have been women back in London, but there was something about the lawyer that made Arizona feel ready.

So then she said, "Yes. I want us to be official."

* * *

**Friday, 8:20PM**

"With whole villages wiped out, thousands of people unaccounted for, and lack of infrastructure causing an aid bottleneck, I think it's safe to say that Typhoon Haiyan has been the biggest humanitarian crisis of 2013."

Mark nodded at Callie, then turned back to the camera. "After the break, we'll talk about the issues users have experienced with the website while applying for new health insurance," he said. "This is  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_ , stay tuned."

Callie took the opportunity to check her emails during the commercial break. "Oh wow," she murmured as she tapped to open one with a subject line that intrigued her.

"What is it?" Mark rolled his chair over to read Callie's screen. "ALAS?"

"Association of Latin American Students at CUNY's Queens College," Callie explained. "They're having their end-of-semester cocktail in a month's time and they want me to deliver the keynote."

"That's great!" Mark said. "What do they want it to be about?"

"They said the theme was 'Latino in the public eye,'" Callie said. "I don't know whether I should accept or not."

"Why not?" Owen's voice crackled through her earpiece, not with a trace of hesitation. He enjoyed eavesdropping on their conversations. "You're one of the most prominent Latin Americans in the public eye right now, Callie. Go for it. They love you already. What's stopping you?"

Callie didn't answer him.

"Torres isn't good at public speaking," Mark said, an amused smirk on his face.

"No way," Owen said. He was laughing - a gruff but appreciative sound. "You're a cable news anchor!"

Pouting, Callie folded her arms across her chest. She felt the heat of a blush creeping up her neck. "It's different being in front of cameras than it is speaking to hundreds of people. On a stage."

"Hey, Cal." Mark stroked her hand. "Think about it later, okay? Let's just get through this show first."

Both of their phones vibrated with a new notification. "Hey look, Arizona sent a group email!" Mark flipped his phone around to show the screen to Callie.

Callie pushed Mark's wrist away. 'Yes, yes, I can see that," she said. She read the email on her phone. It was an invitation to the anchors and senior producers to a brunch the next morning at a place called Pot of Gold "to discuss issues that have cropped up in management". "Owen, do you know anything about this?"

"Yeah… I told her to set the date," Owen said.

Mark looked up from his phone. "Where is Pot of Gold? I've never heard of that place before."

Being somewhat familiar with the venue, Callie snorted as Owen stumbled through a reply. "It's a… café… in the West Village. Arizona picked it," the EP was quick to add, "because I don't go out as often as she does."

"Oh." Realisation dawned on Mark's face. "Pot of Gold at the end of the rainbow! _Nice_."

"Don't expect to pick up any women there, Mark. Most of them are nursing hangovers and sore bodies from sexathons with other ladies the night before," Callie said. Not from personal experience, but she knew it happened.

Her co-anchor scoffed. "I know where I'm not wanted. I just want to observe a fascinating species in its natural habitat," he said. He looked at a camera. "Is it about DC?" he asked Owen. "The brunch."

"Back in sixty," the technical director said.

"Back in sixty," Owen repeated.

Mark knew that Owen was avoiding the answer. "Come on."

"What we're going to be talking about tomorrow is eyes only, that's why Arizona and I wanted it to be out of the office. But it's important that you two are present. Just trust me on this, okay? Listen to your EP."

"Can you move back to where you were, Mark?" the director asked. Mark did what he was told, but not without scraping the floor by rolling his wheels a little bit too fast.

 _Eyes only_. Whatever the executive producers wanted to talk to them about, they didn't want it to be done on Harper Avery Media's turf. The tips of Callie's fingers have gone cold. Could there be bad news awaiting them on Saturday morning?

"And roll in."

* * *

**10:20PM**

At Joe's later that evening, two blonde women downed their shots simultaneously, then slammed the glasses on the bar with accompanying whoops. "Wow!" Teddy said, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "I really needed that."

"Want me to get you another one?" Arizona asked. That had been their third shot of the night.

"Sure."

Arizona asked Joe for another shot of tequila for Teddy and a whiskey and coke for herself, to chase the shot down. She drank beer all week, so tonight she favoured something stronger. "Thanks," she said, as the drinks were served. She watched as Teddy immediately finished her shot, whooping against as she set the glass down. Arizona couldn't help laughing. "Are you trying to get wasted, Teodora Altman?" Of course she was. After all, Arizona forgoed a thorough staff debrief in favour of rushing down to Joe's with the taller blonde - and already she felt buzzed.

"Maybe. Work's been hard lately."

"Tell me about it." Arizona shrugged emphatically. "I've been drinking more than usual."

"So have I." Teddy ordered a screwdriver cocktail. When it arrived, she sipped it slowly, a change of pace from her previous drinks. "You had a good show tonight, by the way," she told Arizona. "Despite everything."

"What do you mean?"

"I heard that you and Derek were fighting," Teddy said. "That's rough, man. I can't imagine working in those conditions."

"Oh, it's fine. Derek and I are fine," Arizona lied. They barely uttered a word to each other in the last three days. It was a miracle that they pulled off three shows up to their usual standard. "We're licking our wounds over it. I expect he'll apologise by the brunch tomorrow."

" _He'll_  apologise?" Teddy chuckled. " _You_  were the one who chewed him out in front of everyone in the control room. You know how he is."

"I asked them to mute! No one heard a thing! If he wasn't being a total ass, I wouldn't have done it." Arizona refused to believe that she could have been too hard on Derek. She believed that journalism was about truth, and refusing the right course of questioning was keeping people from the truth. What she did was not an overreaction in any way.

"You know who's an ass?" Teddy stared into the distance. Four shots of tequila had gone straight to her head. " _Owen_."

Arizona rolled her eyes. Where she and Derek had a professional problem, Teddy and Owen had a personal one. "What is up with you two anyway?" She sounded half like a gossip and half like a concerned friend. 'I've been trying to figure it out for days. Callie said that something might have happened since my housewarming party." Concerned friend. Nailed it.

"Wait, Callie talked to you about this? You guys talked?"

"No, I eavesdropped." Another lie, this one said too easily. Callie was currently her best-kept secret, and she wanted to keep it that way. "That brings me to the point though," she segued. "What happened between you and Owen? Someone from the office said that you two had a little shouting match at my apartment." It was Cristina who told Callie about it.

"I swear, you sound like Callie. I haven't told her a thing. Surely you guys talk or something?"

"We don't," Arizona said. " _Answer my question_."

"He only wants me when someone else has got me." Teddy sighed. "I waited for him for years, you know? I always thought we had something and that we were going to pursue it once we got out of Iraq, but he never did. Every time he says he needs to talk to me about something, and I think  _'Finally_!', he's asking me to do something else. Like go to HANCA with him to be his right hand man." Teddy's face crumpled. "I never get what I want," she said in a strangled sob.

"You don't belong to anyone." Arizona didn't know what she was saying, but she thought that as long as she was saying it in a soothing voice, Teddy wouldn't notice.

"Listen to me, Arizona." Teddy finished the rest of her drink, then promptly asked for another one. That was probably not a good idea. "Owen and I have been doing this stupid dance for over ten years. We were dancing with each other but pretended that we weren't, you know what I mean? And then when I finally wanted to acknowledge that he was my dancing partner, he wouldn't fucking take the bait. Now I'm dancing someone else and he can't handle it." Teddy pounded the heel of her palm on the table. "Don't pretend that you're not dancing with someone. It just ends in stupidness."

Arizona's head spun. She wasn't sure if it was because of the dancing metaphor or all of the alcohol she had consumed in a short amount of time. But what Teddy said rattled her. "Hey," she said, trying to sober up, "what are you doing for Thanksgiving?"

"Derek holds Thanksgiving for the eight and the nine every year, so I'll be there," Teddy replied. "He's got a penthouse overlooking the Upper East Side. The views? Amazing.."

"I'm sure it is," Arizona said.

"You?"

"I'm going to Quantico to spend it with my parents and Tim's family," Arizona said. It would be nice to get away from New York for a few days; the buzz of the city drove her crazy from time to time. She thought she would have gotten used to it after spending time in London, which had a similar frenetic atmosphere, but she liked her quiet.

"That sounds nice. Are you taking Lauren?" Although her speech remained slightly slurred, Teddy seemed to have regained her composure after her outburst about Owen.

Arizona shook her head. "No way!"

"Why not? Don't you think it's the right time to tell your parents that you're seeing someone?"

"Yeah, but you haven't met my parents," Arizona said. "You have to think about where this perkiness," she gestured to herself, "comes from. It'll be too much for her, and I kind of want her around." Besides, charming as she was, Lauren wouldn't survive a Robbins family Thanksgiving, especially when the last woman Arizona took home to celebrate it with them was a hard act to follow. With Timothy in Afghanistan for the second year in a row, the mood around the Robbins household was uplifted by Callie's presence. She helped Arizona's mother cook their Thanksgiving dinner  _and_  volunteered to do the dishes. She even woke up early the next morning to accompany Barbara to the Black Friday sales. Arizona, on the other hand, nursed beers and watched the football with her father, and then slept through most of Black Friday. She smiled fondly at the memory.

The other blonde, whose attention had gone elsewhere while Arizona was silently reminiscing, got to her feet. "I have an idea!" she announced. "Let's play darts!" The cocktail glass in front of her was empty.

Arizona gulped the rest of her drink down. "Oh, all right." She coughed, the whiskey having burnt its trail down her throat. "Let's play darts."

* * *

**Saturday, 11:30AM**

Pot of Gold had no pots and no gold in its decoration. Rather, it was an airy café located in a converted warehouse in the West Village. The tables were spaced far apart enough - a rarity in any big city - and while trade was bustling, the place never felt crowded. As Callie sipped her coffee, she watched Mark look around the café with childlike wonder.

"So I'm pretty sure most of the ladies here are lesbians," Mark said in a quiet voice, so only Callie could hear, "but I haven't actually seen any doing lesbian things. It's disappointing."

Callie snorted. "They're like bats - averse to sunlight. Lesbian powers are activated at night."

Mark looked at her. "Oh, come on, Callie."

"I _shit_  you not," she said, laughing.

Teddy entered the café. She was wearing a brimmed hat with sunglasses. This earned her a few strange looks from the patrons she passed on the way to the table; it was overcast and fifty degrees outside. She sat down at an empty chair next to Callie. "Shut up," she said, before either of them could say something. "It's too loud in here." She tugged her sunglasses off and placed them in her purse.

"What the hell happened to you?" Callie saw the dark circles under Teddy's eyes, which were bloodshot.

The senior producer only had the effort for two croaky words: "Blame Arizona."

Mark guffawed deeply, attracting the attention of the whole table, and most of the patrons nearby. Teddy cringed and pressed the brim of the hat over her ears. "You mean Robbins got you drunk last night?" He looked at Callie. "When you said that there were going to be women in here nursing hangovers, this isn't what I had in mind."

Arizona hovered over Mark's shoulder. "You were saying something about me, Sloan?"

"What did you do to Teddy?" Mark asked.

"She was with soldiers for six years." Arizona read the confused expression on his face. "The only way I could beat her at darts is if I got her blind drunk," she explained.

"You're a naughty one, Arizona." Mark looked impressed.

"You know it." The blonde winked, before skipping off to her seat in between Derek and Bailey.

Callie laughed as she imagined Arizona determinedly plying Teddy with booze. She'd always been competitive. At the other end of the table, Owen cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. Callie, along with everyone else, looked at him expectantly.

"Now that everyone's here, I think we should just cut to the chase and move on to the real purpose of this meeting," he said. "On Thursday afternoon Arizona and I received an email from Jackson Avery that followed on from our meeting on Monday afternoon. The email basically says that the eight and the nine will be broadcasted from DC. Harper Avery Media would compensate those who are willing to move there to continue working on the shows.

"The possibility of moving to DC isn't news for the anchors, but it is news to Teddy and Bailey," Owen continued. "Already I can tell that being forced to move to DC is not an ideal situation for many of us." There were nods across the table. "Arizona and I want to propose not telling the rest of our staff until we have exhausted every way we can fight this."

"I'm all for that," Derek said. "I don't want to cause unnecessary distress with the holidays coming up one after the other."

"Who's our enemy on this?" Callie asked. She pushed her coffee away from her. The sudden onset of anxiety had made it too hot to the touch and too acidic on the tongue. "You know, who are we up against?"

"Basically everyone at the top of Harper Avery Media," Arizona replied. Although Callie knew that she cared enough to organise this meeting far away from the office, she was surprised at how unfazed Arizona looked.

"This is going to wreck whatever progress we've made in our news teams over the last year," Bailey said. "Can we expect everyone to leave New York for DC?"

"Yeah," Teddy said. "I mean, from a journalist's point of view it is one of the cities to be in, but we know that to make it anywhere in cable news you have to be in New York. Even the APs know that. That's why the best candidates apply to work with us."

"That's what we told Jackson when he told us," Owen said. "But he's adamant."

Callie turned to Mark. "Still think he's a good kid?" she asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"You listened to him first," Mark muttered.

"What does Richard think about this?" Derek asked.

"He says that we need to do what Harper Avery Media says," Owen told him. "That it's out of his hands."

"Impossible," Callie said, staring hard at Owen, and then at Arizona. "The man is one of the most important in cable news, and you're telling me that he doesn't have any input on the decision that he would no longer have direct oversight over two of his best shows?" The two executive producers both shook their heads. "Doesn't sound like he's fighting for us, then."

"I am fighting for you." An authoritative voice spoke from behind Callie. Richard Webber stood there, scowling. "I admit, I felt helpless for a while. But I know that there must be something to stop this. We just need to find it. That's why I'm here. I'm a journalist, like all of you. This is where my loyalties lie."


	11. Thanksgiving

**Thursday**

_Miami, Florida_

The sheets were softer. The mattress was firmer. The pillow smelt like heaven. This was not her bed.

Callie could afford all this, and more, but it was hard to make time for luxury linen shopping when her profession practically required her to be on-call 24/7. On the days that she was guaranteed to not be called in to report on some event - let's face it, these days were rare - she would rather stay in bed. Her 600-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets from Nordstrom sufficed.

She adjusted her position, enjoying the feel of the pillow and the mattress shifting to mould to the contours of her body. She was sorely tempted to build a nest of pillows around herself and stay there for the rest of the weekend.

But there was a knock on the door. "Miss Callie?" the voice on the other side said. "Your father wanted me to let you know that breakfast will be ready in half an hour." It was Carmela, the Torres family's live-in housekeeper from when Callie was a high school freshman.

"Thanks, Carmela," Callie called out ."I'll be getting ready now." The clock next to her bed told her that it was eight in the morning. She hummed knowingly. Everything in the Torres household operated like clockwork.

The Torres mansion had eight bedrooms, four of them equipped with ensuites. Every year, Carlos Torres would set aside a specific amount of money to spend on making changes to these bedrooms and bathrooms. When Callie stepped inside her bathroom, she thought that not much had changed from the last time she came to Miami. Until she turned the shower on. A stream of perfectly warm water fell from the ceiling.

Callie looked up in amazement. A rain shower! She was enjoying her weekend away already.

* * *

_New York, New York_

Although most of its employees had the weekend off, Harper Avery Media Tower's gym was still available to use. There were very people in there that morning, one of them being Mark Sloan, who was already working up a sweat on the treadmill.

Two men entered the gym, also in their workout gear. One of them called out, "Mark!"

Mark increased the incline on the treadmill before saluting at the two men. "Owen," he said. "Karev. Are you guys thinking what I'm thinking?"

"What do you mean?" Alex asked. He set himself up on the machine beside Mark.

"I'm working up an appetite for April's cooking today," Mark said. He watched the faces of the other two. "I guess you're doing the same thing?"

"Of course," Owen said. He hopped onto the treadmill on Mark's other side and began a brisk walk. "Apparently Jo and Lexie are helping her out this year. Remember that cake Lexie always brings to parties?" He rubbed his hands together. "It's going to be  _amazing_." It was tradition for Derek to make his place available for Thanksgiving, but someone else had to cook. One person would volunteer as a head chef and they would have as many as three assistants.

"Get sweating, boys," Mark said. "Farm Girl's cooking can make big grown men like us succumb to food comas if we're not careful."

"You know if April had it her way she'd be killing and prepping the turkey herself," Owen said. "She's probably fighting for the freshest one at the markets right now." Mark swore he could hear him salivate.

"Speaking of fresh," he nodded towards the gym entrance, "guess who's coming in right now fresh from the hairstylist?" All three men craned their neck to see Derek, who - in a threadbare Bowdoin College t-shirt and running shorts - wouldn't have stuck out otherwise if not for his perfect hairdo.

"I heard that," he said as he approached. "And I did this hair myself, thanks. I got a text from Meredith saying that Lexie is not only making her amazing black forest cake, but also this year's pumpkin pie." He tossed his towel on the rail of the free machine next to Owen. "We gotta make this session a good one."

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

She could hear giggling. And then there was soft hair tickling her nose. Alarmed, Arizona opened her eyes, coming face to face with a bright dimpled smile - which belonged to a little girl with dark brown hair and wide brown eyes. "Aunty 'Zona?" The little girl prodded her gingerly. She opened her eyes. "You're awake!" she squealed.

"Good morning, Cat," Arizona said groggily. "How long have you guys been here?"

"Just got off the car. Nana said you were sleeping but she made pancakes so you can go eat them now. She told me to wake you up so we can eat them together!" Cat may look more like her mother, but she was Timothy in temperament. "Mummy and Daddy are downstairs too but I don't think they want pancakes." She looked at Arizona curiously, gauging how the grown-up would react. Arizona wasn't sure that Cat remembered her at all, except maybe through photographs that Timothy and her parents kept.

"Five more minutes," Arizona groaned. She turned away from her three-year-old niece and buried her face in a pillow. "Aunty 'Zona is tired." She took a ten o'clock night train from New York, and although she did manage to get some sleep, nine hours upright on even a decently upholstered seat stopped getting comfortable.

Cat crawled over her so that they were facing each other again. "But I'm hungry!" She folded her arms and pouted.

"Fine. Fine." Arizona sat up and stretched. "You better be making me some coffee, Catherine." She had her hands around the little girl's sides and began to tickle her. "You interrupted my beauty sleep!" she teased over the high-pitched laughter.

The door opened. "Cat, what are you doing to your aunt?" Timothy asked. His voice had taken on an amused tone. "You two better come down before me and the Colonel finish all the pancakes. They have berries in them!"

"Berries, berries!" Cat clapped her hands together.

"Let me just put some proper clothes on." She ushered Cat off the bed towards Timothy, and they exited the room together, closing the door behind them. Arizona picked her phone up. It was eleven o'clock - a sleep in she wasn't used to. She had arrived in Quantico at six in the morning and took a cab to her parents' house, where she promptly crashed in bed.

Arizona checked her Twitter feed first, knowing that most of her colleagues used it frequently, including holidays. There were already a few from Mark talking up the big feast April was cooking up. She wondered if Callie had tweeted anything, so she opened up her profile. Her description read:  _Journalist. Co-anchor, HANCA's The Eight O'Clock Breakdown. Foodie. Opinions are my own_.

The latest tweet was from last night.  _About to get on a red-eye to Miami for Thanksgiving the Cuban way! Happy Thanksgiving to all:)_

Arizona favorited the tweet, then went on to check her unread text messages. There were two from Lauren. The first one said:  _Good morning, I hope your train ride went okay,_ and the second,  _Man, people in North Carolina move very slow!_  Arizona chuckled, recalling the stories Lauren had told her about living in a small town in North Carolina. She wrote her back:  _Train ride was okay. I am a little bit sore, though. Got my 3-year-old niece demanding for me to have breakfast with her. I miss you, text you later._

She didn't even hesitate to press send.

* * *

_Miami, Florida_

Aria was watched her chop green peppers for her Cuban-inspired turkey stuffing. "I bet they're missing that over in New York," she remarked. Callie stayed in New York every second year for Derek's Thanksgiving celebration, where she often volunteered to be the cook. Her turkey stuffing was always the highlight of the night.

Callie stopped chopping, looked up and chuckled. "Oh, they'll live. April is cooking this year and that girl slow roasts a mean turkey." She placed the green peppers in a bowl and opened a pack of chorizo sausages. "How's your flan going?"

"Good," Aria said. She stopped beating the egg yolks as her eyes stayed on Callie's face for several seconds.

"What is it?"

The elder Torres snapped out of it. "What?"

"Why are you staring at me?" Callie asked.

Aria bit her lip. "I heard that Arizona was back in town," she said. "And that she's working at HANCA. With you." She watched Callie frown. "What? You know she's the only one out of the people you dated that I took an interest in. I liked her, and so did our mother - and  _she_ has higher standards, oh boy."

"She's on Derek Shepherd's show, actually," Callie said. "And where did you hear this?"

"From Addison Montgomery." Aria cringed at Callie's incredulous face. "What? We're friends!"

"Since when?" Callie liked to keep her friends and family separate because she didn't want her friends to think that she was bred by uptight elitists. But now that she thought about it, Addison and her sister being friends made sense. Even if she was completely unaware of it.

"She got a journalist to write an article about my company for her website, so she and I got talking about how we wanted the article to turn out, and we hit it off really well," Aria said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Anyway, Addison isn't who I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about you and Arizona. Are you angry that she's there?"

"No, actually," Callie skinned the chorizo rapidly, "we talk. We're… civil, if you could call it that."

"Civil? Seriously?" A hint of amusement was ghosting Aria's lips. "Wow, Callie, I expected you to be the one to hold an almighty grudge."

"I'm different now," Callie said.

"A  _changed_  woman. Saint Calliope, pardoner of those who choose career over love." Aria didn't seem convinced.

Embarrassed, Callie picked up her knife and chopped the chorizo to break eye contact with Aria. "Don't make fun of me." She wish she hadn't told her. Being on speaking terms with Arizona wasn't deliberately a secret, but she enjoyed it that way, and she believed that the blonde did as well. There was no pressure on them to explain what they shared since other people were unaware of it. She didn't know where she wanted them to go from there; what she wanted was to make peace.

Even if it was becoming hard to resist capturing Arizona's lips whenever she laughed, smiled, spoke or breathed.

* * *

_New York, New York_

From his place at the end of the table, Webber slouched in his seat, his hands rubbing over his sated belly. "I think it's time that we go around the table and say what we're thankful for this Thanksgiving," he told everyone. "Does anyone want to begin?"

"You can start, Chief." Meredith smiled at him.

"All right then." Webber straightened up. "This Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for Derek, who has kindly allowed us to make us of his not-so-humble abode for our celebrations, as he does every year. I am thankful for April's turkey stuffing, Jo's mashed potatoes and Lexie's cake." There was a smatter of agreeable chuckling from the table. "And most of all, I am thankful to be working closely with such a group of talented journalists.  _You_  are the future of broadcast journalism, and you make me proud to be HANCA's president every minute of every day."

"Thanks for your kind words, Richard," Derek said from the opposite end of the table. He cleared his throat. "This year, I'm thankful for the renewed success of  _America in Focus_ , largely thanks to the direction Arizona has taken us - remind me to shoot her a text later. I'm  _especially_  thankful for finally being lucky enough to balance love and career at this point in my life." He shot a pointed smile at Meredith, whose cheeks began to tint. "Let's hope next year will be a better one."

The anchor's last words hung heavy in the air, impacting especially on the senior staff members. Webber wished his arm was long enough to reach over and slap Derek upside the head. It was  _Thanksgiving_. He didn't want anyone to be thinking about DC.

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

When the dinner table was cleared away, Timothy and Arizona remained in the kitchen to do the dishes while everyone else went into the lounge to watch a movie. Arizona took charge of scrubbing, leaving Timothy to figure out a way to fit everything into the dishwasher. "I can't believe how fast Cat is growing," Arizona told her brother. "When I last saw her, she wasn't even potty trained!"

Timothy chuckled. "She is the third love of my life, I have to admit," he said. "If what Mom says is true, that is."

"What did Mom say?" Arizona raised an eyebrow.

"That you were the first love of my life," Timothy replied. "Apparently, when you were first born, I didn't let anyone go near you without begging Dad to make sure that the person won't hurt you. And then I always threatened them if you looked like you were about to cry."

"Well, at least everyone knew early on that you'd make a terribly overprotective father. I should probably advise Hilary to hide your guns when Cat takes someone home to meet you," Arizona joked. But honestly, she was touched. She hadn't heard this story before, but from her experiences in middle school and high school, it was something that Timothy would do.

"That's not necessary because as soon as Cat enters first grade I will be enrolling her in aikido classes." Timothy smiled. "If my count is accurate she'll be a black belt just in time for high school. No worries."

The colonel's voice boomed from the lounge: "Enough with the chatter. Double time, you two! The movie is starting and I don't want you to miss parts - you two ask far too many questions and it's annoying."

Arizona rolled her eyes while Timothy stifled his laughter. "Coming, Dad!" he called out. In an undertone, he muttered, "God, I feel like I never moved out."

"Tell me about it."

They finished the rest of the dishes in silence. The dishwasher began its cycle. Arizona and Timothy walked to the lounge together. Hilary was on the loveseat while their parents were seated in their respective armchairs. Timothy took his seat next to his wife. "What are we watching?"

" _Tangled_ ," Hilary replied. "It was Cat's choice."

"Stop talking, Daddy! The bad lady's about to steal the baby princess!" Cat was sitting on a giant beanbag on the floor. She must have noticed that Arizona was struggling to find a place to sit, because she giggled and said, "Aunty 'Zona! Come sit with me!"

Arizona gave in to her niece's wishes. She burrowed into the beanbag, and Cat curled up next to her. "I love this movie," Cat said quietly, but cheerfully. "Rapunzel kinda looks like you, except you have shorter hair and blue eyes. But you're both awesome." She grinned.

"Well, I'm glad you think so, Cat. Thanks." Arizona couldn't help grinning back.

For the first time in ten years she no longer felt like a temporary fixture in the family that had evolved while she was furthering her career and experiencing her independence. She stroked Cat's hair, then trained her eyes on the television screen.

The little girl was asleep by the time the movie ended. Her head was on Arizona's stomach. While Hilary and Barbara fussed with putting away popcorn bowls and coffee mugs, Arizona bent forward to kiss Cat's head. "And I am thankful for you," she whispered, admiring the little girl's dark brown hair and long eyelashes.

Cat could have been the product of a future with Callie. If she hadn't abandoned it.

She could feel a pair of eyes watching her. Raising her head, she saw that it was Timothy, smiling proudly.

* * *

**Friday**

_Miami, Florida_

The main entrance to Aventura Mall was already crowded with well-dressed housewives and overeager teenagers when the doors opened at eight on the morning of Black Friday. Callie shuffled in with her mother, Aria and Aria's two children. She wasn't going to put herself through this at first; she lived in New York, and online shopping was invented for a reason. But her sister and mother had twisted her arm, saying that they would buy her anything she wanted.

She had to resist rolling her eyes at that. It was like she was the awkward, chubby thirteen-year-old Callie and not the gorgeous multimillionaire news anchor she came to be. Her actual, final push came from the fact that her Aria was going to bring her children along. If being sour about the fact that Aria and Lucia was going to drag around Aventura all day wasn't some good family bonding, Callie didn't know what was.

Three hours later and laden with shopping bags - Callie indulged in a couple of scarves and a high-waisted bikini, despite herself - the Torres women were at 7 For All Mankind because Aria and Lucia apparently  _needed_ new jeans. Callie internally scoffed. They were hardly seen in casual clothing.

She browsed the racks aimlessly, relieved that for once, she didn't have to endure staring - or worse, paparazzi.. Only three people had come up to her to say hello that morning. It was either Miami's wealthiest didn't care to watch HANCA, or everyone was just too busy buying a new wardrobe. Regardless, the anonymity was refreshing.

Her phone rang. When she dug it out of her bag, Mark's smirking mug was on the screen. She accepted the call. "Sloan, what's up?"

"Hey, Callie! Just checking in." Mark's jovial voice was tinny through her phone's earpiece. "How's your Thanksgiving been?"

"The food was great but I haven't had a chance to enjoy my food coma yet," Callie said. "I'm at Aventura right now, warding off the crowds."

"What the hell? You're at Aventura this early in the morning?"

Callie glanced at her watch. "It's past eleven, Mark."

"Really? I just woke up. Thanksgiving at Shepherd's was crazy. You cannot believe how much alcohol the APs brought," Mark said. "Anyway, how's the lifestyle of the rich and famous over there? I can't imagine people who shop at Aventura can get too excited over sales. They don't need sales."

"Well," Callie ran her hand through a pile of jeans, "at 7 For All Mankind you can get yourself a pair of jeans for a hundred and forty bucks. Down thirty percent from two hundred."

" _Bargain_!" Mark teased in a singsong voice. "Would my butt look good in them?"

Callie played along. "They're women's ultra skinny in light wash blue. The fabric is so soft. Your butt would look  _amazing_."

Someone tugged on her arm. "Tia Callie!" a voice squealed. "Why are you talking about butts?" It was Aria's youngest daughter, Elena.

Mark's laughter rang in Callie's ears. "Yeah,  _Tia_  Callie… you know you shouldn't be saying those things!"

"Oh, shut up, Mark," Callie snapped. Her eyes widened when she saw the mixture of surprise and amusement in the four-year-old's facial expression. "Sorry, that was rude. I mean,  _keep quiet_."

"Right." Mark continued laughing. "I'll let you go. See you Monday morning?"

"You know it. Bye." Callie hung up and placed the phone back in her bag. "What's up, Elena?"

Elena moved from cheerfully brazen to somewhat timid. "Becca and I were wondering…" she chewed on her lip - Callie was suddenly aware that a common persuasion tactic was being used on her - and scuffed her shoe lightly on the shop floor, "could you get us some soft serve?"

"Soft serve?" She sought out the seven-year-old Becca, the more introverted of Aria's daughters.

Becca glanced at the floor before elaborate softly, "There's a stall just outside this shop."

"Okay. Sure, I'll get you some soft serve," Callie said. She beckoned each girl to take her hand. "Hey Aria," she called out to her sister. "The kids and I will just be out here, okay?" She led them out the door of the shop.

After she bought each of the girls a vanilla soft serve cone, they sat together on a nearby bench. Elena eagerly lapped hers up. "Mommy never lets us have soft serve," she said. "You're the best."

Alarmed, Callie turned to Becca. "Why is that?"

"Oh, Elena gets on a really bad sugar rush," the girl replied nonchalantly.

"Crap," Callie muttered. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"We  _hate_ shopping." There was a bit more fire in Becca's voice this time. "If Elena gets hyper, then Mommy would have no choice but to take us home."

Callie sat back, feeling slightly lightheaded, a laugh brewing at the bottom of her throat. Should she snatch the soft serve cone from Elena? Well, the damage was done now. She watched the girls eat their soft serve. Kids were more clever than she had originally believed.

* * *

_New York, New York_

After the fifth buzzing noise from his intercom, Owen staggered out of bed and into the hallway. He leaned against the wall before pressing the button. "Yeah?" he croaked.

"It's Teddy. Get decent, buzz me in, I have coffee," the blonde's matter-of-fact voice crackled through the speakers.

"Coffee?" He suddenly recalled having one too many beers last night and April Kepner ushering him into a cab. That would explain the throbbing around his temples. He'd do anything for a coffee, so he let Teddy in. He rushed back to his bedroom to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Teddy walked through his door a couple of minutes later. She was in jogging gear, with two coffees in a cardboard drink tray in one hand, and a paper bag in the other. "Jesus, Hunt," she said. "You look like shit."

Owen ran his fingers through his curly red hair. "I haven't drank that much since we were embedded. I've turned into a lightweight." He nodded at the paper bag. "What's that?"

"Bagels." Teddy started to set the food and drink up at his small dining table.

Admittedly, Owen was bewildered as he watched his best friend move comfortably around his kitchen, taking out plates and cutlery. He and Teddy have not had a proper conversation in weeks, and they were just keeping it professional at work. "I thought you were mad at me," he said.

"I  _am_ mad at you, Owen," Teddy said. "Grow up. You're a real brat."

"I thought I was your best friend, Teds. I was just trying to give you advice."

"That Henry is bad news."

"Well, yeah." Owen wrung his hands. "But you know you can do whatever you want, right?"

"I know that. I just don't like that what I do is tied to you being happy or sad about it as well," Teddy said. "We had our chance. You just didn't take it, so we don't owe each other anything on that front." She sat down at the table and began helping herself to the food. "Sit down and have some breakfast before your head splits."

Owen obliged. He scratched his head. Despite being friends with Teddy for most of his adult life, talking about these things still made him a bit fidgety. So he busied himself with the bagels. "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I was being a jerk."

"Ah, you finally took the first step to admitting your problem." She looked amused. "It's fine, Owen. Just… you know… I don't want to deal with it anymore. Henry makes me happy. You either try to get along with him or you stay out of our way when you know he's gonna be around."

"He's just so…  _tall_ ," Owen said.

Teddy crossed her arms. "That's the best you got?"

"He writes for a  _magazine_. That's a step closer to NPR-doucheness."

"Okay, come on, I came here to have a conciliatory bagel and coffee, not argue with you about my boyfriend. Again." Teddy shoved Owen lightly, but she was grinning. "You're such a fucking blockhead, you know that?"

Owen took it as a compliment.

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

Colonel Daniel Robbins always said that the best part of living in Quantico was that he was never pressured to accumulate possessions. Black Friday was not any different. One would not go as far as to call the Robbins' household  _austere_ , but none of the furniture had been replaced in decades, and they served food on the same sets of plates and cutleries for the last fifteen years.

"It's Dad's rebellion against consumerist society," Timothy commented wryly. He and Arizona had driven to the baseball diamond they frequented in their childhood. They sat on the lowest bleacher and took their e-cigs out. The town was practically empty, save for a bunch of young Marines walking around town in uniform, clearly without sufficient money to go into the nearest city to shop.

"Trust the Colonel to choose something odd to rebel against," Arizona said. Their father was a straight-laced man; referring to him as rebellious was odd. "But it still doesn't mean that we have to be stuck here while everyone else is at the mall."

"I thought you'd enjoy the break from city life," Timothy said.

"Well, don't you?"

"DC is sleazy, slimy and hectic. If it's not broiling hot, it's freezing and icy," Timothy said. "Hilary's glad for the break away. And neither of us are really into shopping. Besides, that's what the internet is for."

"God, you sound like the APs at work. They were all talking about how they did their Black Friday shopping in advance so they can get blind drunk on Thanksgiving and not have to miss anything today." Arizona laughed. She was one of those APs once, and she still wasn't over the fact that she was now experienced enough to be in charge of a bunch of them.

"They're onto something, those APs." Timothy turned his e-cig off to replace the cartridge from a small case he kept in his pocket. "How are you finding the work there, by the way? We didn't really have a chance to talk about it when I came to visit."

"It's honestly a lot more different than I expected it to be," Arizona said. "I mean, you know me, I'm a natural boss." Timothy snorted at this. "And I get to do a lot of that in this job, but there's a mentoring aspect as well. There's this kid on my staff, Alex Karev. He's quite hard-nosed, a little surly…"

"Brown hair, brown eyes? Not that tall, but built?" Timothy waited for Arizona to nod. "Yeah, met him at your party. I thought it was odd that someone who looked like him would be in cable news."

"But that's just it," Arizona said. "You meet these kids and you think they're just grunts doing elbow grease, but then they come up with these really cool ways of approaching stories that I wouldn't have thought of on my own. They're the best part about the job, to be honest."

Timothy leaned forward. "Really? Not getting to work with the handsomest man on TV?"

"Well, Derek isn't called McDreamy for no reason," Arizona scoffed, and puffs of whitish smoke escaped her mouth, "but he's a bit of a self-absorbed jerk. Not a full on diva, but enough for me to put him down the ranks of why I love my job so much."

"Wow, harsh. He's not weeping into his hair over it?"

"Well, if he is, then it wouldn't be the first time."

They both laughed. When it died down, Timothy took a long drag on his e-cig. "What about Callie?" he asked. "Where does she rank?"

Arizona began to shake her head. "We don't work together."

"You work in very close proximity."

"I wouldn't say that close. We're too busy doing our own things," Arizona said. "Besides, Callie shouldn't be affecting the way I do my job anyway. We have to keep things professional."

"You're not telling me something," Timothy observed.

Arizona bit her lip. She began to study her feet. "Callie and I are sorta friends now," she admitted. "I don't really know what to call it. We're in this weird place where we're trying to put it behind us, but at the same time it hangs over like a grey cloud. It's nice to not have that antagonism but it's still not the same as  _actually_ being friends, you know?"

"Have you guys talked about what happened?"

"Not yet."

"Well," Timothy said, "perhaps you should."

She had been avoiding it, and as far as she could tell, so was Callie. They were trying to move on with their lives now, and Arizona felt that if either of them tried to delve too deep into their history, it will only hold them back. In the pit of her stomach, she knew she was wrong about the supposed harms of talking about it with Callie, but her stubbornness won out. And Callie, she knew, would follow her lead.

* * *

_Miami, Florida_

"I think that's the last of it." Callie dusted her palms on her thin dressing gown as she surveyed the row of baskets in front of her. She and Aria were in the Torres's large laundry room, sorting spoils from today's shopping into piles of washing for the housekeeper to do the next day. "I miss not having to do my own laundry."

"Hey, I do my own laundry," Aria said.

"Yeah, but you live fifteen minutes away from this house so I know you drive it over here when you can," Callie said. "Try being in New York."

The older Torres folded her arms. "I'm  _busy_ , okay?" She laughed, despite her argumentative tone. "Come on, let's head upstairs." She led Callie out of the laundry room and they climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms.

"Has Elena settled down?" Callie asked. As Becca had foretold, Elena went into the most almighty of sugar highs. "I'm sorry about that. I don't deal with kids on a daily basis. I forget how they can be with sugar."

"Oh, Elena's an exception." Aria waved it off. "She'll be fine. She crashed right after dinner and she'll wake up tomorrow morning asking for pancakes. It's like her hangover cure."

Callie chuckled. "Kids these days, huh." They stopped in front of the door of the bedroom that Aria was staying in. "Good night," she told her sister.

"Good night," Aria said. She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Callie settled in her own bedroom with her tablet. After reading a few  _New York Times_ articles, she checked Hangouts on a whim. Arizona was online. Though it went against logical thought, she held her breath and called her.

Arizona responded promptly. "Hey there. Is everything okay?" she asked in a hush voice. Callie couldn't see most of her face because the room was dim.

"Sorry. Did I wake you?" Callie asked, even though she knew that Arizona would still be awake at this time of night.

"No," Arizona said. "What's up, Cal?"

"Oh, nothing, just a social call," Callie said. "The suburbs are weird. I miss New York."

"At least you're in  _Miami_ ," Arizona said. "I'm in Quantico. The only interesting thing here is -"

"The number of legally trained killers per capita," Callie finished the quip. She knew that Arizona felt genuine affection for the place she spent her high school years in, but the town had always been too small for anyone who didn't plan to go into law enforcement, let alone for someone like Arizona. "You don't even live in Quantico, technically."

"Yeah,  _technically_ ," Arizona said. "But if your dad is a high-ranking colonel, the good people of Quantico consider you to be one of them."

Callie smiled. "Why are you talking so quietly, by the way?"

"Oh, check this out." Arizona moved the camera, and on screen, Callie could make out the figure of a young girl next to her in bed. "The house only has three bedrooms and there's no room for her in Timothy and Hilary's bedroom, so she's with me for tonight."

"Catherine, isn't it?" Callie smiled fondly at the slumbering child, even if she couldn't be seen by either her or Arizona. "Tim did good."

"Did we ever expect anything less…" Not quite a question, the statement hung in the air.

A few seconds of silence followed. "How are your parents?" Callie asked.

"Good. Cat and the new baby on the way are keeping them occupied so they're not bugging me all that much," Arizona said. "What about yours?"

"Getting old and getting bored," Callie said. "I've told them repeatedly to take partial retirement and start travelling around the world, but they won't listen to me. And even if they've got a handful with Aria's children, they still won't shut up about me giving them grandchildren."

Arizona laughed. "Well, they know they've got great genes to pass on."

Callie blinked. Arizona was always good at disguising compliments into throwaway comments. But she went along with it; any more hesitation would make things weird. "The bushy hair and big hips?"

"Totally. You're telling me you don't find that attractive?" There she went again.

Desperate to change the subject, Callie said, "So, this isn't entirely a social call."

There was an audible hitch in Arizona's voice. "Really?"

"I got invited to do this speech at the Latino student group at CUNY," Callie said. "I was wondering if you could help me with it. You know me and public speaking don't mix all that well." She regretted saying that last sentence. She shouldn't be giving constant reminders to Arizona - and to herself - that they had a past. "I mean, I understand if you're busy…"

" _No_ ," Arizona voice was sharp. She took a breath. "Sorry. No, I'm not busy, Callie. I'd be happy to help. When do you have to give this speech?"

"Two weeks," Callie said. "I've typed up a rough draft. Do you want me to email to you?"

"Yeah, go for it," Arizona said. "I'll read it then maybe we can work on it together when we get back to New York?" she suggested.

"I'd like that," Callie said. "I should let you go. Any more talking and we'd probably wake your niece over there."

"Oh please, she'd probably sleep through a monster truck rally," Arizona snorted. "That said, I am tired. Thanks for calling. I'm going mad in this area of Bumblefuck."

" _Arizona_ ," Callie chided. "Don't let your father hear you say that. Around Cat, too."

"I won't." Arizona said. She was visibly grinning, her blue eyes flashing with mischief. "Good night, Calliope."

 _Calliope_. Callie tried to read Arizona's face beyond the smile, but the woman was impenetrable. "Yeah, good night. See you on Monday."

* * *

**Saturday**

_New York, New York_

The beginnings of the Avery family's media empire started with a daily publication that began its circulation in Boston during the First World War. Marcus Avery, who owned a printing press, hired the women who wrote the newsletter at his church as his first journalists. After the war, Avery acquired thrice weekly thirty-minute blocks for a Negro news and talkback show at the local AM station. The newspaper and the radio show was a platform for discussion on the early brewings of the Civil Rights Movement.

By the time Martin Luther King, Jr. had emerged as a public figure, Marcus Avery's son, Harper Avery, had returned from Lincoln University. He told his father about the potential of television broadcasting. The father and son pair wrangled for a weekly timeslot on Boston's local television channel. In the early 1970s, an elderly Marcus Avery sat to the right of his son as they sat in a hall in Harlem to celebrate the launch of Harper Avery Productions. The name was changed to Harper Avery Media in 1990 to coincide with the launch of their basic cable channel. Their news division, HANCA, launched ten years after.

They had come a long way since Marcus Avery formed his first newsroom in a stuffy, windowless room above his Boston printing press. And now, their current CEO, Catherine Avery, wanted to go further.

Jackson remembered the last time that his mother had elected to spend Thanksgiving in their Manhattan penthouse, instead of flying to Harper Avery's refurbished Victorian-style home on the outskirts of Boston. It was when he was fourteen, and his parents had a very messy, public divorce. Catherine, exhausted from the events, chose to have a small Thanksgiving celebration in New York, rather than facing the family in Boston and having to field questions.

It was a different story this year. Over lunch, Harper, Catherine and Jackson sat at the large dining table, along with Jackson's siblings, both older: Louise, who ran the online and digital media division, and Martin, who worked with Harper Avery Media's finances. They were in the city because Catherine had declared a "semi-working holiday". The main topic on the agenda? HANCA.

"I'm just saying," Catherine's voice carried across the table, "HANCA is our most profitable television product. I'm not sure why everyone's so hesitant to play it to our advantage." She turned to her elder son. "Martin, do back me up."

"I drew up some rough calculations. Moving the news division to DC would save us around three hundred thousand a year, which would just add to our ROI. Then if we adjust the show running times to allow for at least one more ad to run per commercial break, we'll increase our ad revenue by seven percent," Martin said.

Louise jabbed her fork in the air. "But we're not moving the entire news division. Just the eight and the nine," she said. "What about our affiliates? Our money goes into them, too."

"The affiliates have region-specific advertisement deals so we're not worried about their revenue," Martin said. "And those two shows, the nine, especially, are our costliest. They can still do their thing, but their home base overhead is going to be cheaper for us."

"I don't understand," Harper Avery said, "we don't need to worry about money, do we?"

"No, Dad, we don't," Catherine said. She pursed her lips momentarily, before continuing, "but it doesn't hurt to have more. Television news is a multimillion dollar industry. Our primetime shows have already shown a bit of a liberal bent. They eat that stuff up nowadays. Look at MSNBC. Why shouldn't our company ride the bandwagon?"

"Because, Catherine," Harper looked at her sharply, "that would require adopting a degree of populism. And if you and I know the same Richard Webber, you know he wouldn't stand for it."

Catherine turned to Jackson, who had spent most of the conversation trying to shrink into his seat. "Jackson, honey, you've been spending time with the staff," she said. "What do you think?"

"The staff are concerned that moving to DC would make them lose their status as a contender. They're accustomed to working across the street from their competitors," Jackson said. "They believe in the 'out of sight, out of mind' thing."

"Al Jazeera and BBC World broadcast from DC," Martin said.

Louise scowled. "Al Jazeera and BBC World don't have the same commercial goals that we do."

"That's all good and well, Jackson, and we'll address those concerns later," Catherine cut in before her children could say anything else. "But I was asking you what  _your_  thoughts are."

Jackson swallowed. "I think that it doesn't hurt for us to aim to be as cost-efficient as possible," he said.

"Ah, but you were always a momma's boy, Jacks," Louise muttered.

"Now, Louise, let's stop there," Harper said gently. He turned to Catherine. "I'm all about cost-efficient, but if you're just moving two shows there and the rest are staying in New York, wouldn't it still cost the same?"

"And that literally means an empty, unused floor in the Tower," Louise added. She caught a look on her mother's face. "Unless you plan to use it for something else. Mom?"

Harper caught the look, too. "Catherine?"

Martin and Jackson stared at her too.

"I have to make it clear. Nothing from this conversation leaves this apartment. Is that understood?" After her children and father have agreed, Catherine put her cutleries down, and sighing, steepled her fingers. There was plenty of explaining to do.

* * *

_Quantico, Virginia_

Even if his eyes were fixed on the road, Arizona could feel that her older brother was itching to ask her something. She repressed the urge to roll her eyes. Her parents had gone easy on her with the questioning this Thanksgiving, but Timothy had grilled her Marine-style, albeit in a charming, roundabout way.

Arizona noted the  _You're now leaving Quantico_  sign. "So, you were saving the zinging screwball of a question for when you've got me trapped in this car, hurtling down a freeway," she said. "And I got no way to go."

"Oh, don't be dramatic, 'Zona. It doesn't suit you." Yet Timothy nodded. "I do have a question to ask you, and I'm only asking you now because I don't think you would have appreciated me asking it around our parents."

"What is it?"

"Why haven't you mentioned Lauren to them?"

Arizona frowned. "Maybe I have, and you just weren't there to see it."

"Come on," Timothy said. "Yesterday I overheard Mom telling Hilary that she can't wait for you to find someone nice and settle down. If you had told her about Lauren she wouldn't be saying things like that. She U-Hauls faster than you do."

"Timmy,  _straight people_ U-Haul faster than I do."

"I'll give you that." Timothy chuckled. "But why haven't you told them? You're still together, right? Or are you not telling them because she's meant to be  _casual_?Or whatever you unmarried people call it."

"We're still together, and we're in a relationship, I guess," Arizona said. "I just haven't told Mom and Dad yet because I'm still trying to decide if I want her to stick around for good. No point introducing her to them when we ultimately decide that we're not good for each other in the end. You know how Mom and Dad get invested," she added pointedly.

"One would think that you'd put a rush on trying to decide that. The time required for you to make that decision apparently diminishes the older you get," Timothy said. "Time to settle down, and all." He smirked at his own wryness.

"I'm surprised that you're not bugging me about Callie."

"Well, Lauren seems to be making you happy, and maybe you and Callie are different people now and it wasn't meant to be in the first place," Timothy explained. "So I'm happy for you, Arizona. All I wanted was for you to in a good place in life."

Arizona took that all in. "Thanks, Timmy."

Timothy raised an eyebrow. "But did you want me bugging you about Callie?"

This stopped Arizona. When she thought about it, the reason she disliked the constant talk about Callie was that she actually enjoyed it. And the fact that the primary reason that she was bothered was because she didn't really mind anyway.


	12. Say Something

"So I'm really glad that, uh, I'm - I mean -  _honoured_  to be standing here in front of you this evening," Callie glanced over the top of her cue cards. "When they first asked me to give this keynote, I wasn't sure what to say to, uh, a group of young people, who…" Sighing heavily, she lowered her cue cards. "Speeches are shit. It's why I'm in the news. I never have to talk about myself or what I've done or what I'm doing. And most of all, I don't even have to give advice or  _be inspiring_!"

Arizona straightened up in her seat. "Hey, come on. You'll get there." It was two weeks until the CUNY Queens College's Association of Latin American Students' end-of-semester cocktail, so she'd spent almost every lunch break helping Callie' practise for it. The speech was very well-written. Really, it was her confidence that needed working on.

"I don't even know why they thought I was a good pick. I just read the news," Callie said.

"It's because they consider your story worthy enough to tell, because you've made it," Arizona said. "They wanna make it too. It's nice to see a flash forward into their futures."

Callie frowned. "These kids have worked hard their whole life and want to do something great. I just had rich parents so I could do anything I wanted. I was born lucky, and there's nothing inspiring about that."

"Well, all the money in the world and it still couldn't have been easy being a Latina television journalist for a cable news network. I mean, you're probably one of the most visible Latina on mainstream TV who isn't a character on  _Devious Maids_ ," Arizona attempted to joke.

" _God_ , I hate  _Devious Maids_." Callie let out a shaky laugh. When Arizona started laughing with her, she broke down in giggles. She flopped into the chair across from Arizona's desk. "I'm sorry," she said breathily. "I've been highly strung, haven't I?"

"Yeah, you have been," Arizona agreed, but not without fondness. She remembered when Callie would pace around their apartment for hours on end as she wrote copy for big, important stories. They were both new in the industry then, and they lived in perpetual fear that they wouldn't be cut out for it. But here they were now. "You're a very talented journalist, Callie. You weren't picked to host  _The Eight O'Clock Breakdown_ because your parents' money. You did the hard yards, and that's what they want to hear."

Callie relaxed a little at that. Her eyes held Arizona's for a few seconds, before saying, "People forget that talking about something so personal is way harder than it looks."

"It's always easy until they're the ones who have to do it," Arizona said. Realising what she just said, she broke off eye contact with Callie and turned her attention to her laptop screen. However, she could still feel Callie staring hard at her. She chewed the inside of her cheek and willed herself to look the other woman in the eye again. "Callie -" she began to say.

But Callie's gaze was now fixed to her cue cards. "Let's start from the top," she said. She got to her feet and cleared her throat. "Good evening to you all. As you now know from the introduction, I'm Callie Torres, and I currently work as a news anchor for Harper Avery News and Current Affairs." Not once did she look up.

* * *

Out in the bullpen, three APs are crowded around Cristina's desk eating Chinese takeout out of the box while jabbing buttons on their laptops. "I can't believe that Owen thought it was a good idea to spend a block on the 'polar vortex'," Meredith said.

"Well, I can't believe that Arizona thought that it was a better idea to go out and do a story on people being affected by the polar vortex," Alex said. "It's freezing, we all gotta turn our heaters up and put another pair of longjohns on. There's your story."

Cristina, however, had her attention on something else. A few yards away from her desk was Arizona's office window. The blinds were drawn, so the blonde executive producer slouching in her seat and the dark-haired anchor pacing in front of her were clearly visible. She noticed that Arizona was watching Callie intently. Perhaps a little too intently. "They do know that we can see everything that they're doing, right?" she asked.

Alex followed her sight line. "Maybe it's because they have nothing to hide."

"Or so they think," Cristina said.

"I always wonder if those two would get back together." Meredith was watching them now, too. "They still seem to like each other a lot."

"Or maybe they're just friends." Alex was scowling. "Can we go one day without talking about someone else's personal life?" He shut his laptop lid and tucked the machine under his arm. "I need to go call some affiliates to film some footage," he said. "The way things are going, I'm probably gonna have to get this story myself." He walked off without another word.

"Do you think we hit a nerve?" Meredith asked Cristina, though Cristina knew she wasn't all that worried. Alex was never not cranky about something, and though it was better not to ask, it was fun for them when they did.

"Nah."

* * *

Catherine Avery knew that her father was not happy. He had not been happy since the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend, when Catherine had revealed what she planned to do with the space that will be cleared out once the eight and the nine shift to DC.

At first he was just annoyed. But when he found out that Richard Webber wasn't clued in either, he became angry. This was why they were sitting in one of the boardrooms on the Harper Avery Media Tower's executive floor, waiting for the arrival of HANCA's president.

"You wouldn't have told Webber about this until the very last second if you had gotten away with it," Harper Avery said. "You probably wouldn't have told anyone about it if Louise didn't press on about it."

True, she had omitted a few details when she had assigned the operations team - more specifically, Jackson - to evaluate the eight and the nine, but she wouldn't have kept it a secret for too long. "Well, I aim to please you, Dad," Catherine said. "I thought that it would be a surprise. Like a birthday gift." Her dry tone earned her a glare from her father.

"You must know that I am still against what you're trying to do here. This is a media establishment, first and foremost, not a corporation, and certainly not a vehicle for politics."

"I know." Catherine snorted softly, though she knew it was unbecoming for a woman in her position. Her father built the company, she's the one modernising it. She didn't believe that she was deviating from the company values she was entrusted to maintain. "But come on, Dad. This is what Marcus Avery envisioned. He wanted to give our people a platform, and now we're in more of a position than ever to do just that," she said.

Harper raised a disapproving hand. "Catherine, please don't use your grandfather's name in vain. And besides, this  _platform_ has become universal now, you and I know that. We're not just for 'our people' anymore. Hell, I don't even think we have a black news anchor."

"I don't make those hiring decisions, you know that."

"Well, what you're planning to do seems a bit drastic. Why don't you just try finding a black news anchor?" A noise at the door made him look up. "Ah, Richard is here. Come in, sit down." He gestured widely at the large amount of empty seats at the grand oak table.

Webber chose to sit on Harper's left, directly across from Catherine. "This feels very… intimate," he said. "Is everything all right?"

Harper turned to his daughter. "Catherine, you called this meeting."

Webber watched the two Averies warily. "Have I screwed something up?"

"Oh no, it's not that, Richard, it really isn't," Catherine said. She clasped her hands together and placed them on top of the table. "I just haven't been completely forthcoming with you regarding transferring the eight and the nine to DC. First of all, it would be a lot more cost-effective to run the two shows down there than in New York -"

"Jackson has told me that," Webber interrupted.

"That's not all," Catherine said. "We're planning to use that floor for something else." She noticed Webber waiting for her to continue. "Have you heard of a gentleman named Randall Howlett?"

"Yeah, didn't he run for Congress for the Dems in 2012 but lost out to a GOP candidate?" Webber asked. "What about him?" Then, he didn't bother waiting for a reply. "Hang on. Don't tell me you're giving him airtime."

Catherine decided to come right out with it: "We're planning an early afternoon slot."

"Seriously? I heard somewhere that he's planning to run again in 2016. Won't that be putting HANCA in a potentially compromising position? We're a news organisation, he's publicly partisan."

"Randall wants to use our airtime to reach a wider constituency," Catherine said. "It's going to be a half-hour show where he talks about the biggest issues that black people are facing today, and what black voters should consider when trying to pick a candidate to vote for."

"Oh, so we're helping him run his campaign now," Webber said in disbelief. "I'm not so sure that this is a good idea, Catherine. And I'm not pleased that you didn't consult me. I'm the president of the  _news_  division. I should have some say in who we're giving airtime to on the  _news_  network."

"Randall is willing to put a lot of money to have this opportunity."

"And by the fact that you're eager to boot some of our best staff to DC just so he can avail of our resources, it's all a done deal," Webber said.

"Not quite," Catherine said. "We just need to put it all in writing."

"Catherine, as president of HANCA, I should have some authority to declare this as a conflict of interest and a violation of our values," Webber insisted. He knew he sounded a little bit desperate and he didn't enjoy it.

Catherine Avery tilted her chin regally. "And as CEO of Harper Avery Media, I have the authority to override yours," she declared.

Webber looked at the elder Avery. "You're okay with this, Harper?"

"I'm not sold on the idea, but I know that this is out of my hands now. I didn't put Catherine in charge of this company for nothing, and I certainly don't want to override what she wants to do, even if I may disagree with it," the old man said. Catherine knew that he was putting on a front of civil diplomacy for Webber. He  _hated_  the idea, and he'd tell anyone who'd listen, as long as they were an Avery. There was nothing more unbecoming in a family-owned corporation than airing your grievances in front of someone who wasn't a relative. "This will still have to be taken to the board, of course," Harper continued. "But honestly, I don't see them saying no. Sorry, Richard."

Webber trained his gaze on Catherine. A new fire burned in his eyes. "If it has to come down to a vote, then the board will have to listen to the news division's opinion about this, too, then," he said. "You'd let me have that, won't you?"

"Of course, Richard," Catherine replied, her voice taking on a sweet, poisonous tone. "That's only fair. But you know that things are going to be moving really fast from now on. Randall wants everything set up ideally by late January so he could go on air by February."

Richard scoffed. "Sure, I'll try to factor in what Randall Howlett wants in my argument. Thanks for telling me that."

* * *

A stack of manila folders sat on the edge of the coffee table in Webber's Upper East Side apartment. On the front of each folder was a white sticker label with a name written neatly in block print.  _MARCUS SLOAN. CALLIOPE TORRES. DEREK SHEPHERD_. And there were about a dozen of them. Webber combed through every employment contract tucked into each folder. He only dared to smile when he knew he had  _something_.

He checked the time and picked up his mobile phone. It was twelve-thirty. He knew that a man his age should be sleeping by now, so he resolved to keep it brief. Scrolling through his phone's contacts, he took a deep breath before pressing a name. He held the phone to his ear. Someone should pick up, he thought anxiously. It was only nine-thirty in Los Angeles.

"Hello?" a voice said on the other line.

"Hello! It's Richard." His heart was beating so fast. "I need your help. Employment dispute. Can you fly out to New York by tomorrow?"

"How bad is it?"

"It's a Catherine Avery-sized problem." He knew this person was up for a challenge.

Someone's breath caught on the other end of the line. "I'll be on the first flight tomorrow morning," they said. "I should be in your office by five o'clock."

"No, don't come into the tower. I don't want anyone to know yet," Richard said. "My apartment's a better place. I'll tell my doorman to let you in." He gave them his address. "Thank you for doing this. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up.

He'd have to do a bit of lying for the next day or so, until they've ironed the wrinkles out. One does not hint at having battle strategies against Catherine Avery.

* * *

Eggs and bacon were smells that Arizona had not woken up to in a very long time. She got out of bed, found a discarded t-shirt and some shorts on the floor, and walked out of her bedroom. She found Lauren, dressed in a thin tank top and yoga pants, keeping watch over a frying pan in the kitchen. "Morning," she said.

Lauren looked at her and grinned. "Morning." She took a mug out of one of the cupboards and poured coffee from the machine. "Sit down. This should be ready in a minute." She held the mug out to Arizona.

Arizona walked over to her, took the coffee, then leaned closer for a quick kiss. "Normally, I'd be pissed off at waking up alone in the morning, especially when I know perfectly well that I didn't go to bed alone."

"So, this is a nice way to defuse you, then?"

"Hmm." Arizona kissed her again, for longer this time. "Yeah, I feel properly defused," she said as she pulled away. She took a seat at the small dining table, where Lauren had laid out the sugar, cream and milk. "Wow, I didn't even know that I had this stuff in here." Arizona wasn't one to admit that she was a workaholic, but then she knew that the fact that she doesn't remember the last time she went grocery shopping might suggest otherwise.

"I had to run out and get milk and eggs," Lauren admitted.

"In that?" Arizona nodded at Lauren's outfit. She had gone without a bra, and her nipples were starkly visible through the tight fabric of her top.

"You kidding? It's fifty degrees outside!" Lauren laughed, then said, "I put a coat and my furry boots on over this. Don't shoot me."

"Oh, I'll try not to!"

Lauren turned her attention back on the food. "By the way, I think the toast is gonna be a little stale. I don't know how long you've had the bread I found in the fridge for, but it wasn't mouldy so I just assumed it was good to eat."

Arizona vaguely recalled stopping by at a convenience store a few nights ago to get that bread, after she had skipped dinner at the newsroom. "Yeah, I think it's safe," she said. She watched as Lauren turn the stove off, place a piece of toast on each plate, and then put eggs and bacon rashers on top of the toast.

The taller blonde approached the table, a plate in each hand, and laid one down in front of Arizona, before sitting down across from her. "Breakfast," she adjusted her seat, "is served."

"Wonder woman," Arizona said. "I thought you'd be rushing off to work by now."

"I have the day off today," Lauren told her, in between bites of toast. "And you have to be at the office much later than I do, so I thought I'd treat you for breakfast. Nothing gets you going in the morning than eggs and bacon."

"Can't disagree with that." Arizona recalled the times when she was living in DC. She'd been kissed awake by Callie, who would then beckon her into their dining room to enjoy eggs and bacon. And then she stopped herself. Why was she thinking about Callie? Why was breakfast food making her think about Callie? She trained her focus back on the woman sitting opposite her. "Are you coming over tonight?" she asked, just because she couldn't find anything else to say.

Lauren smirked. "Why? Don't you want me to?"

"No, no…" Arizona began to stammer. It was unusual when women turned the tables on her and caught her off guard. Not necessarily bad, but just not what she was accustomed to. "Of course I do… I was just curious."

"Arizona," Lauren said firmly. "Relax. I'd love to come over, but I can't tonight. I have a function to go to." She stopped. "You know, that reminds me, I've got one coming up and I'll need a date."

"Uh, is that your way of asking? Because it's so not romantic."

Lauren paused to consider. "You're right." She put her fork down and took Arizona's hand in both of hers. "Arizona Robbins, would you like to come as my date to this function I must attend?"

Arizona laughed and snatched her hand away. "What function is this?"

"It's an end-of-semester gala thing the Association of Latin American Students at CUNY," Lauren replied. "They invite someone from my work every year and this year I got the lucky draw. I heard it'll be a buffet," she offered.

"CUNY?" Arizona straightened up in her seat. "Their Queens campus?"

"Yeah. You know about it?" Lauren asked. She glanced down at her plate for a second then back up at Arizona. She must have noticed that the details registered in her mind. "'Course you would," she said slowly. "Callie Torres is giving the keynote address, and you work with her… and all."

Arizona couldn't help but noticing the ambiguous ending, but decided not to ask what it was supposed to mean. Asking would just bring the battle in her head out into the world. Regardless of Lauren's answer - perhaps she meant it differently than Arizona's guilty conscience inferred - would permit the battle to be defined and validated.

No, that can't happen. It was already hard enough fighting herself.

And so she grinned, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "I'd  _love_  to come with you."

* * *

"... and for those of you who aren't sure if you're on the right track, well, let me tell you, where you are now seems a pretty great place to start. Thank you, and enjoy the rest of your evening." Callie lowered her cue cards and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Woohoo! That's awesome! You didn't even stutter." Arizona clapped slowly.

"What's my time like?"

Arizona read her phone screen. "You're going great. Fourteen minutes and forty-two seconds," she said. "And your eye contact is so much better this time around. You're going to be super duper ready."

" _Super duper_." Callie couldn't resist giggling. Arizona was by far one of the most intense, focused, and at times, genuinely terrifying people she knew, yet she talked like a kindergarten teacher. Or a pediatric nurse. But then again, those people were intense, focused and at times, genuinely terrifying anyway.

"Think of it as a pep talk," Arizona said.

Callie took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"

Arizona froze. "Sure…"

"I have a plus-one for this event, and I was thinking of asking you to come with me," Callie said. "It's not like a date or anything," she shook her head vigorously, "I just thought saying this speech would be a lot easier if I pretended that I was only saying it to you."

"Oh, Callie." Arizona's face was screwed up in some emotion that Callie couldn't figure out. "That's nice of you to ask, but I'm actually already going. Lauren's going for work and she invited me."

"Th-that's, well… That's great! I won't have to do without you after all!" Callie was half-relieved and half-pissed off. She thought that Lauren seemed good for Arizona, from what little she saw of them, but that didn't mean that she enjoyed the thought of seeing them together for an entire evening.

"If Lauren hadn't asked me, I would have said yes to you anyway. For moral support, you know?" It was surprising - and confusing - that Arizona appeared as uncomfortable as Callie felt. "Funny how things just work out, huh?"

"Yeah," Callie said. "Funny that."

* * *

It was an hour and a half until they were due on air, so Mark and Callie ate their dinner while editing scripts over Callie's desk. "Webber has been quiet lately," Callie told Mark, who, as usual, had gotten his own way and assumed the seat behind the desk.

"Well, I sweet-talked Patricia," Mark waved dismissively at Callie's incredulous expression, "and found out that he met with Harper and Catherine Avery today, so he probably won't be quiet for long."

Callie sighed. "If we have to transfer to DC, I don't think I'll go," she said. "My agent negotiates my contracts yearly so it's not that hard for me to not renew it in time for 2014. I like New York way too much to leave." Even when she grew up as a wealthy girl in Miami, New York had been calling out for Callie. Miami was too hot, too sprawling, too nouveau riche. New York was the battleground where everyone got down on the mud to wrestle for their dreams. Aside from her stint as White House Correspondent, New York had been her home since college. There was more New Yorker in her than there was anything else.

"If we're being honest here, I kinda wanna do the same thing," Mark said. "And I don't know, stay here and get a job at a law firm or something. I still have my license."

"Seriously? Like any of the law firms in the city would take you seriously. They probably dream about eating your pretty boy primetime face for lunch."

Mark laughed. "I'd like to see them try," he said. "If not New York, Boston maybe. Chicago at a stretch. DC's just not my thing. It's a dirty city. All grim black suits and secrets and political intrigue. And not all of our staff would be able to make it down, and I don't think I can put up with dealing with a new staff."

"You don't have to deal with the staff all that much, Mark," Callie reminded him.

"I know, but Owen and Teddy do, and when they think the staff are idiots, they're always in bad moods. I don't want that," Mark said. He didn't like getting involved in boosting staff morale. He saw that as a role for the producers to do. "We've got a good thing going here. I don't see why the people upstairs don't want to see that."

"We're supposed to be doing some great, wonderful, noble thing," Callie said. "Don't you think it's a little selfish of us to want to jump ship?"

"Sometimes we're allowed to act in our own self-interest." Mark shrugged. "Great things don't stay great forever." The computer on Callie's desk beeped. Mark took the liberty of leaning over to check it. "Oh, speak of the devil," he said. "It's an email from Webber. He wants us to meet him at Pot of Gold for breakfast tomorrow." He raised an eyebrow. "Do we really have to keep using that place forever?"

"You're the last person I would think to have a problem with using a lesbian café as a secret rendezvous location," Callie said.

Mark smirked. "It didn't meet my expectations."

"Oh, Sloan, stop being such a dude. No one digs that," Callie said. "Anyway, if he want us to meet there, then it has to be important."

* * *

The next morning, Arizona was having a cup of coffee and a muffin at Pot of Gold. Bailey and Teddy were still fussing over the choices at the store cupboard, while Mark and Callie were waiting in line for coffee. Derek and Owen were already seated, poring over the business section together while they sipped their coffees.

In about ten minutes' time, everyone was at the table with their food and drink. They ate and chatted while waiting for Webber. At one point, Bailey looked over Derek's shoulder. "He's here," she announced. "And somebody's with him."

The journalists facing away from the entrance turned around to see Webber's companion. Webber himself was dressed well with a blue shirt and a moss green tweed blazer under his grey coat, but the woman walking beside him was something else. In a navy suit, heeled boots, and an enviably tailored black wool overcoat, this woman was tall, with wavy black hair and sharp blue eyes. There was something familiar about her. Arizona couldn't put her finger on it until Mark, Derek and Callie spoke all at once.

"Amelia?"

"Amy?"

"Millie?"

The odd pair reached the table. Before Mark, Derek or Callie could say something else, Webber cut to the chase. "Good morning everyone," he said. "This is Amelia Shepherd. She'll be helping us out." He pulled a chair out for her. "Amelia, take a seat. I think you'd do a better introduction of yourself than I would."

"All right, Richard." Amelia regarded the whole table. "I'm a lawyer based in LA, but Richard got in touch me, said you needed my help. So here I am." She acknowledge the stares some of the journalist were giving her. "Yes, I am Derek's little sister, and I've had the misfortune of growing up alongside Mark."

"Hey, Amy, don't be like that," Mark said. "I've known her since she was in nappies."

There were some chuckles around the table. It seems like no one but Arizona saw that Callie had reacted unusually to Amelia's arrival. Arizona glanced over at Callie's end of the table and saw that she was now trying to shrink into her seat, her expression somewhere between horror and nausea.

"Amelia and I want to tell you about the plan we came up with," Richard said. "But first I have to tell you why Catherine Avery wants this to happen. And you have to not tell anyone. Not even your APs. Catherine can't know that you know." When he was sure that everyone understood, he launched into a recount of his meeting with the Averies. He told them about Randall Howlett, he told them about the fate of their newsroom.

Arizona was the first to speak at the end of it all. "Wow, I should  _not_ have left the BBC." That was not to say that the BBC didn't have its share of power hungry, politics-playing suits, but in her years of working there, she doubted that the BBC would have considered giving airtime to anybody who was distinctly and outspokenly aligned with a political party only because they were waving a tonne of money around.

"Catherine Avery does understand that part of being a news organisation is that we're supposed to be objective, right?" Owen asked. "Or is she taking a leaf out of Rupert Murdoch's book?"

"Now, now, objectivity is relative," Teddy said. "Fox News can get away with what they get away with because they claim freedom of speech. I think what you're trying to say is that news organisations can't show partisanship."

"But," Bailey cut in, "a lot of famous news anchors publicly donate millions and set up PACs and SuperPACs to support a candidate of their choice. No one ever calls it out as a conflict of interest. I'm not saying I support them or anything, but news organisations have been getting away with this for years."

"Just in this country, I suppose," Teddy said. "It probably all goes back to the First Amendment, and everyone knows that nobody should be freer than the media."

"Well, this country's logic is  _fucked up_ ," Mark muttered. He immediately raised his eyes to meet Webber's. "Pardon my language, Chief."

Derek inched forward in his seat. "So, what's Amy helping us with?"

"My specialty is in media law, but Richard and I were hoping to execute a strategy using your contracts," Amelia said. "The renewal period should be soon, yes?"

The journalists nodded.

"You know, the best part of being a huge division in such a huge corporation? HANCA has its own HR department. Your contracts are negotiated between Harper Avery Media and yourself - or for the anchors, your agents. However, because of the sheer size of the company, HANCA HR department has very little contact with the main Harper Avery Media department, which means HR, most of the time, reports to me. And the people upstairs don't give a toss," Richard explained. "Yesterday I took the liberty or reminding them of renewal period, and they're drawing up new contracts as we speak."

"What's different about these contracts?" Mark asked.

"Nothing." For some reason unknown to everyone, there was a huge grin on Webber's face.

"And how's that supposed to help our newsroom from becoming campaign headquarters for the Democrats?"

"There are two specific clauses in your current contracts that we want to take advantage of," Amelia started. "The first says that the contract is only valid in New York. The second says that any revisions to the clauses that involve remuneration, a change of location or pretty much any factor that would require you to make a major life change can only happen after six months of the contract being signed."

The grin did not fade off Webber's face as he picked up where Amelia had left off: "If we get you to sign the new contracts ASAP, and under the radar from Catherine, we can tell the board that trying to finalise the move to DC by the end of this year would mean violating this contract."

"The clauses on our old contracts don't apply?" Arizona asked.

"Since it's renewal period anyway, Catherine would just say she'd get her people to write the new ones, probably with Washington DC replacing New York in that clause. That way she can rush you down there, tough luck to those who can't make it, and it's above board, too," Amelia replied. "Legal loophole."

"That's fucked."

Webber glared at Mark. "Sloan, I swear," he said.

"Wait, what's the point of doing all this if the best-case scenario is that it's just gonna buy us another six months?" Arizona asked.

"It means we have another six months to tell the board why giving Randall Howlett airtime is not in Harper Avery Media's best interests," Webber replied.

"We're sure this is going to work?" Derek asked.

"Well, big brother, we're gonna have to try it," Amelia said. The same cocky Shepherd smile was on her face.

The younger Shepherd fascinated Arizona. She checked on Callie again. The news anchor was staring down at her plate, playing with her food like a kid in elementary school. Conversation moved from the contracts to less serious matters, like sports and LA and the upcoming Christmas holiday. When everyone finally disbanded to start heading back to the office, Arizona noticed that Callie didn't even bother waiting for Mark. She just bolted out of there.

* * *

"These kids go to school in Queens?" Mark surveyed the young people walking around the hotel ballroom, many of them in suits that were too big and excessively styled hairdos. "They don't look any different from the kids I went to school with. Except they're Latino. But you're Latino."

"Mark, shut up, you're in public," Callie said. "These kids have Twitter or Facebook or something. Bitch about them and you're going to be frontpage news tomorrow." Because Arizona was already going as someone else's plus-one, Callie decided to take Mark instead. She regretted it. She should have picked a safer option, like Owen or Teddy.

Her speech had gone well. Better than she expected. She stumbled over the tricky parts once or twice but she recovered easily. Callie had not estimated how much confidence standing in a room full of Latino kids, most of whom have grown up without her privilege, hanging onto her every word. She felt trusted and worthy enough to give these kids' advice - and this was saying something; being good at her job hinged on her being trusted and worthy of what she was telling her audience. This was different. For once, Callie felt like a proper role model.

Having Arizona clearly visible in the audience, wearing a muted red cocktail dress, with her hair straightened and her makeup perfectly applied, probably helped too. When she had trouble saying the words, all Callie had to do was seek her out. Arizona didn't stop smiling at her the whole time. She didn't even take notice of Lauren Boswell, who was wearing the only emerald green dress in the ballroom.

Callie scowled in the middle of her thoughts. She scanned the crowd trying to find the two blondes again. And then her lips twisted into a smirk. Green and red made them look like a Christmas tree. She thought herself as happy for Arizona, but that didn't mean her new girlfriend couldn't be a source of amusement..

"I have to say," Mark said in between bites of vegetables, "the food is really good."

"Yeah? Don't talk when your mouth is full," Callie said under her breath. "Good god, Mark, you really wanna end up on the internet, don't you?" Even in his $3000 bespoke evening suit and $150 haircut, Mark enjoyed acting like an uncouth teenage boy.

"Don't think there's anything I've done that the internet doesn't already know about, short of a sex tape." Mark swallowed his food. He nodded in a vague direction. "Incoming," he said in a lower voice.

"What?"

"Arizona and her lawyerly lady lover."

Callie composed herself, adjusted her dress and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. When she turned around with a smile on her face, Arizona and Lauren were only a few steps away from her.

Mark stood up and assisted her by offering a hand. He addressed Arizona and Lauren: "Hey, ladies."

"Callie." Beaming, Arizona stepped forward and held one of Callie's wrists in each hand. "I'm so proud of you. You did so well!"

"Thanks." Callie pulled her wrists away. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Arizona turned to her date, who had a confused expression on her face. "Callie let me listen to her speech, for practice, you know?" she explained. "Tonight was definitely her best delivery, of course."

"It was very inspirational," Lauren said.

A terse silence fell over them as they stared at each other awkwardly. Callie couldn't read the expressions on either Arizona's or Lauren's faces. She tugged on Mark's hand for help.

" _Hey_ , let's go dance, Callie!" Mark exclaimed. He placed an arm around Callie's shoulders and led her away. When he was sure that they were out of earshot, he bent his head slightly by Callie's ear: "Now what was that about?"

"I- I don't know."

Mark rested his hands on Callie's waist, and Callie placed hers on Mark's shoulders. They were close enough to be able to talk quietly, but they didn't. They didn't say a word for two songs. "I thought Lauren was plotting to claw your eyes out or something back there," he said, over the first bars of the third song.

"Contrary to popular belief, women are not that petty," Callie said, rolling her eyes. In retrospect, Lauren did not look pleased, and most likely had not known that her girlfriend was hanging out with Callie, practising speeches and whatnot, but she didn't look displeased either. "Lauren's fine with it." She said this not for Mark, but for herself.

"Fine with what?" Mark asked. "The fact that her girlfriend has been working quite closely with her ex-girlfriend, who, by the way, is still into her?"

"What?!" Callie attempted to laugh. "I'm not into -, I'm over -," she caught Mark's expression, "I'm  _getting over_ Arizona."

"It's all right, Cal," Mark said distractedly. "If she's the one you're trying to convince, you should put a better poker face on, because the one you have right now isn't convincing anybody."

Callie's eyebrows furrowed. "Why's that?"

"She's been watching us and now she's heading over here," Mark said.

"Don't be fucking with me, Sloan," Callie growled. She wanted to run away, hide somewhere where she can't be seen to collect her thoughts. Tonight was a strange night. She spoke in public without wanting to vomit, yet felt the same urges when being told she was about to be approached by a beautiful woman.

Mark's hands kept a firm, yet comforting, hold on her. "Relax, all right? I doubt she's going to declare her eternal love for you, but she wouldn't be asking you to dance if she didn't care about you."

Callie's heart was in her throat, and she was trying very hard to keep her voice from wavering. "Maybe she's just being chivalrous?"

"Isn't chivalry dead?"

"You'd be surprised at how much lady-loving ladies have contributed to the survival of chivalry."

"She's almost here," Mark whispered.

And sure enough, seconds later, Arizona's hand was on Mark's arm. "Hey there, Mark," she said. "I don't want to be that person who asks the guy if I could dance with his girl, so can you just bear with me for a sec…" She pushed Mark over to the side a little bit, enough so his hands just about slipped from Callie's waist, and Callie's hands almost lost their position on his shoulders. "Callie," Arizona said.

Callie made an effort to stay cool and look at Arizona. The blonde had a subtle smile on her face, one she couldn't help matching. She cleared her throat gently, convinced that if she'd done it with a bit more force, she would have thrown up all over Mark. "Yes?"

"May I have the honour of dancing with you?"

"Well, that's me for tonight." Mark stepped back and smoothed out the shoulders of his suit jacket. He gave Callie a reassuring nod before heading back towards the tables.

Callie felt Arizona's arms rest on her shoulders. Automatically, she reached for Arizona's waist. They had done this a thousand times before. They were inches apart, closer than how she and Mark stood there a while ago, but still not touching. Callie could feel her body wishing they would, and she had to will herself not to give in.

Arizona began to chuckle. Callie got out of her head enough to realise it was because of the song that had just come on over the speakers. A slow, piano rock ballad that was sure to have violins in it as some point.

"Fuck, I hate this song," Callie said with a laugh.

Around them, more and more couples joined the dance floor. "The students don't, so don't crush their spirit," Arizona said playfully. Into the first verse, she stepped closer to Callie so that their bodies were touching. "I meant what I said, Calliope. You did great tonight. I couldn't be any more proud."

Callie could feel Arizona resting her chin on her shoulder, and the softness of Arizona's hair brushing her cheek. They were chest to chest now, and she hoped that her heart was not beating too fast or too hard that the other woman could feel it. They had done this a thousand times before, but this time still felt like the first.

* * *

She had told Lauren that she just wanted to congratulate Callie. That she would come back and dance with Lauren after a song or two. But now that she was in Callie's arms, she didn't feel like going back there again.

Callie was still a wonderful dancer. When they lived in DC, they always talked about going dancing but their schedules meant that they rarely found the time. Arizona used to play songs over on their stereo system and they'd dance together after work. Mostly to unwind, but especially just because they could. She had to admit that there was a special pleasure in dancing publicly. It was a way to affirm that they were a part of this world, and though they don't need other people to validate that for them, it was a good feeling to occupy that space.

Arizona used to be confused about why she couldn't stop thinking about Callie. She thought that it was because she hadn't seen her in ten years, then suddenly they were working in the same newsroom. Or that it was because she couldn't form a group of work friends without including Callie in it somehow, and that she was still adjusting herself on how best to tackle that. Or that Callie had been acting weird towards her and she couldn't help but dissecting every little interaction they've had. But these weren't reasons; they were excuses.

The real reason she couldn't stop thinking about Callie was -

_Anywhere I would've followed you…_ Arizona pulled her head back to look into Callie's deep brown eyes.  _Say something, I'm giving up on you_. Should she? Saying something would change everything. She opened her mouth…

"You wanna tell me what's going on with you and Amelia Shepherd?"

She wasn't sure if she wanted everything to change just yet.

She could feel Callie's shoulders tense beneath her arms. For a moment, she thought that the taller woman was going to pull away and make a break for it, but unexpectedly, they began relaxing again.

"I knew her a very, very long time ago."

The answer was unclear but Arizona was certain what she meant. She couldn't help but teasingly ask, "Oh, how messy did it get? Does Derek know?"

"Derek doesn't know anything and I'd prefer to keep it that way," Callie said. "And as for your first question, I just have to say, it was short, sweet and… amicable."

"All right, I'll stop asking questions."

"Good."

They inched closer to each other until they were touching once more. Callie had pulled her in closer by fully wrapping her arms around Arizona. She didn't resist. Instead, breathed in the smell of the skin on Callie's neck. She closed her eyes and let Callie's arms guide her around the dance floor. She couldn't remember a time when she had ever felt so honestly close with another person. There was so much to say, so much to talk about, and so much that she was afraid of.

As their second song faded out, she lightly shook herself out of Callie's arms. She lifted herself out of her heels, on her tiptoes, to kiss the taller woman on the forehead. "Thanks for that," she whispered.

Callie opened her eyes slowly. "No, thank you," she responded.

When Arizona got back to her table, Lauren was standing by her chair. She was holding two glasses of wine, and handed one to Arizona. "Can we go somewhere quiet?" she asked.

Arizona's stomach dropped. Lauren started making her way out of the ballroom, drink in hand, and Arizona had no choice but to follow her. She didn't know if Lauren had seen her and Callie on the dance floor. It could be about anything. Arizona paused. She needed to get real. Of course, whatever Lauren had on her mind, it was going to have something to do with Callie.

They found an empty corner in the ballroom foyer, just next to the coatroom. Arizona downed her drink in one go and set the glass on the unmanned coat check desk. She roughly wiped her mouth on her hand, not even caring that her lipstick might get smudged. "What did you want to talk about?" she asked.

"How did you know I wanted to talk?" Lauren, on the other hand, sipped her drink slowly.

"Just by your tone, you know." Arizona shrugged.

Lauren's hand reached out and pushed a lock of hair back from Arizona's face. "Look, Arizona," she said, "we need to stop lying to ourselves."

"What do you mean?"

"I know about you and Callie Torres," Lauren said. "Well, like, I know you two aren't anything. But you used to be, a long time ago."

"That's exactly it!" Arizona jumped in. "It was a long ti -"

"No, I wasn't finished," Lauren interrupted. "You two were something a long time ago, but I know that you still feel something there, and the feeling is mutual. You two are still holding out hope to be something again."

"Lauren."

"Arizona, it's obvious to everyone, okay? Everyone on that dance floor would have thought that it was you she took, and not Mark Sloan. That you came here with her, and not with me." Lauren sighed. "Look, we had a great run, all right? It wasn't long, and I don't wanna make it any longer. Not when it's like this."

"Lauren, no, I swear, it's  _nothing_!" Arizona insisted.

"You are lying to me, right now. I was lying to myself," Lauren said. "I like you. Really, I do. But... we're not built to last." She cupped Arizona's face gently. "I'm telling myself that I'm doing this because I want you to sort your shit out. Like, I don't go for women who are hung up on other women."

"And what's the real reason?"

"If I'm being honest, I don't want to get in the way of who you really want." Lauren shook her head. "Because come on, we both know that's not me. I can't be your distraction forever, Arizona."

Arizona lowered her head to avert eye contact. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Lauren said. "It's not like you didn't try. I thank you for that, honest. But seeing you out there tonight?" She smiled ruefully. "I'm not too hurt about it at the moment, but I knew if we had kept on, I had to accept the fact that if Callie came knocking, you'd leave me without thinking twice. I just couldn't do it. If you did that, it would  _really_ break my heart."

That part was true, and Arizona hated to agree with her. "So we're over."

"I guess we are," Lauren said. "Hey, I had a great time. You weren't a bad girlfriend."

But I'd be terrible beyond that, Arizona thought. "I just wanna get out of here right now," she told Lauren.

"Me too," Lauren said. "Stay here and wait for me, if you don't want to go back in there. I'll just go in to say my goodbyes, then we'll grab our coats and go. I'll get the car to take you back to your apartment."

"Thank you, Lauren," Arizona said. "For everything."

Lauren's hand rested on the ballroom door handle. "Do me a favour and sort things out with Callie," she told Arizona. "You deserve to be happy. Or you deserve some closure that's way better than whatever screwed up deal you two decided to work out to avoid dealing with it properly, at least."

"Hey, how'd you figure that out?"

"Wasn't that hard. You're living in a state of denial. It's time to get over that and face the music." Lauren finished the rest of her drink, took a moment to collect herself, and opened the ballroom door. "I'll see you in five minutes." She went inside, and left Arizona leaning on the coat check desk, alone with her thoughts.


	13. Closed Doors, Opened Windows

Saturdays didn't vary much for Callie. She woke up, ate a small breakfast before doing fifteen minutes on the treadmill and twenty minutes of Pilates in the building's gym, went back up to her apartment for coffee and some more breakfast, and then she got into the shower. She spent the rest of her morning cleaning her apartment, writing emails to her family and reading articles online. Then she dropped by Mark's place for a late lunch.

Mark opened the door and didn't bother with the pleasantries, except for a grunt of acknowledgement. He walked back to his living room and plopped down on the couch. Callie made for the kitchen to lay out the food she brought. She watched Mark, his hands wrapped around an Xbox controller, muttering profanities under his breath. She couldn't resist shaking her head.

"Jesus Christ, you fucking fucker!" Mark yelled. His fingers frantically pressed buttons on the controller. "Come on, you bastards!"

Callie snorted as she scooped salad on a plate. "Ladies and gents," she announced to no one, "here we have your premiere primetime cable news journalist Mark Sloan, screaming and killing little people on his television."

"Yup, that's me." Mark paused the game. He leaned over to grab another controller. "Wanna play, Torres? You know you're a better shot than I am."

"After lunch, maybe," Callie said. She placed two filled plates on the dining table. "Let's eat."

Mark joined her. "Mmm," he said appreciately, examining the plate in front of him. "This is the only time I sat down for a meal this week." He said this every week.

"Same here," Callie said. "We should try to convince Webber to get a catering budget in. We can have warmed over beef stroganoff and shit like that in the conference room and we can just grab plates and eat while we have rundown meetings."

"Genius idea," Mark said. "But also a recipe for disaster, now that Catherine Avery is ruling HANCA like a Greek parliamentarian…"

"Or Margaret Thatcher, if you prefer," Callie said. "But yeah, catering in the newsroom. Pipe dream, but totally not a bad idea, am I right?"

"Yes, you're right. Though, I wouldn't want beef stroganoff. Maybe something more posh?" Mark chewed thoughtfully. "Maybe we can get Amelia to argue that point for us," he joked.

Callie took a deep breath. "About Amelia…"

"I have not slept with her," Mark said quickly. " _Ever_. If that's what you're about to ask."

"I wasn't about to ask that!" Callie cringed. She couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a sex partner with Mark, even if the two of them had slept with each other. "I just wanted to ask you something about her."

"Shoot."

"You guys were pretty close, right? Did she ever mention me at all? When she was at law school?" Callie asked. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, already dreading the answer. The only other thing that was worse than sharing a sex partner with Mark Sloan is having said sex partner talk to Mark Sloan about it.

"No." Mark eyed her curiously. After a moment, he said, "I know that you two would have been at Columbia at about the same time, but you were at J school, not law school. So why would she mention you?"

Callie didn't say anything. She figured that Mark would come to a conclusion soon enough. There was a little part of her that wanted to go back to two minutes ago when Amelia Shepherd wasn't the primary topic of conversation. She was a part of Callie's life during a time Callie would rather not revisit. Not because it was traumatising, but it was a bit embarrassing.

"Oh." Her fellow anchor's steely blue eyes widened. "Oh god! You and Amelia hooked up at Columbia, didn't you?" He laughed. "Goddamn, Torres. Well, I can't say I'm surprised. She was always on a crusade to sleep with the hottest people."

"You don't understand, though," Callie said. "That's just it. I wasn't hot in J school -"

But Mark was having none of it. "You and little Amy Shepherd. That is an interesting pairing right there." He laughed again. "I'm guessing I'm not allowed to tell Derek about this?"

"Of course not! He'd kill me."

"Derek's harmless. I still won't tell him though, so you can calm right down." Mark waved her off. "But what a couple of months you've had, huh, Cal? Two exes already popped up and the year isn't even over. Are they gonna have like a meetup for New Year's Eve, or something? Play a game on who gets to kiss you at midnight?"

If only, Callie thought. But she thought her predicament was far from amusing. There were exes, but there will be no kisses at midnight. She looked down at her plate and groaned. "This is  _so_  not my year."

* * *

Arizona woke up with the realisation that  _she_  had been dumped. It was unbelievable. For years, she had been the dumper, not the dumpee. Yet she had been dumped for a reason that involved the last woman who dumped her. Ten years ago. It had come full circle to Callie Torres but she didn't know what that all meant. Or did she? The thoughts muddled her head.

She had a piece of toast and bitter black coffee before she pulled the vacuum cleaner out of the bottom of the linen closet. The best way to work through the muddle inside of her was, of course, to tidy her apartment. She vacuumed every corner, pushed over every piece of furniture she could manage, and at the end of it all, she collapsed on the couch, her skin glistening with light perspiration.

Lauren was right; it was time for Arizona to stop living in denial. The truth was that she was still in love with Callie. She should have known it when she filled in that application form for the job at HANCA. She should have known it when she was searching for a place to live in New York. She should have known it the moment she stepped into that newsroom and completely fucked up her attempt to not let everyone on that she and Callie had a past.

She should have known.

"I need a shower," she muttered to herself. She put the vacuum cleaner back in the closet and made her way to the bathroom, undressing carelessly as she walked. When she stepped into the steaming shower, she closed her eyes and sighed. "I love Callie," she tested the words out. She repeated them again, not caring of the water pouring down her face into her mouth..

Arizona knew that she was never great at reading emotional cues. But she thought she'd have at least been able to read her own. Ten years ago, she and Callie were in love. She chose her career because she thought she was too young to want to settle down. And then a whole decade passed and now she thought herself far too old to settle down. By leaving Callie, she had missed her chance.

The other woman had made that clear. Arizona knew that Callie still cared about her, but would probably never forgive her for the choices that she had made. And although the thought of that pained Arizona, she believed that she deserved it. But she couldn't leave this hanging in the air while they were trying to move towards a friendship, better suited to who they are now. She needed to talk to Callie. No more quick fixes. They needed to deal with it for what it is, once and for all.

* * *

A group of junior researchers were huddled around a desk on the outer edge of the bullpen. They were meant to be working on a story, but upon her approach, Teddy noticed that they were watching a YouTube video. She rolled her eyes, and leaned over them, muttering: "Webber's coming, look busy."

The researchers scrambled to place their notepads and laptops in front of them. Their eyes darted around anxiously, waiting to see if the senior producer was merely bluffing.

But she wasn't. Webber entered the bullpen with his usual imposing presence. Walking alongside him was the media lawyer, Amelia Shepherd, and behind them was a frazzled young man with an oversized suit and excessively gelled hair. He was holding a plastic box full of crisp, labelled manila folders.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Webber's voice carried over the murmuring in the bullpen, which immediately halted. "This is Jason from HR," he gestured to him, and Jason, his arms occupied, gave a sheepish nod. "Anyone with a producer in their title should come to the conference room in the next thirty minutes to sign their contract for 2014. If your rank is lower than producer and you have no plans to leave this godforsaken newsroom," the corners of his mouth twitched slightly in jest, "you can sign your new contracts at the HR department on the 17th floor starting from next week." He took a moment to scan the faces in the room, before curtly finishing with a, "Get back to it." He turned on his heel straight for the conference room.

Webber watched as the associate producers came in and asked to see their contracts. Leah skimmed hers and frowned.

"Something wrong?" Jason asked.

"I just signed a new contract a couple of weeks ago when I transferred teams," she said. "I mean, I get that I have to renew it for next year, but this must be a waste of printing. Why can't we sign them electronically on tablets or something?"

Jason considered it. "Well, don't I wish that people in my department think like you do?"

Leah laughed. So did Jason. Webber rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

The APs were out five minutes later, and Jason was bent over the plastic box, slotting their folders in the correct place. Webber remained silent as the senior producers came in. And then the executive producers. They hung back when the anchors finally entered. At this, Webber looked at Amelia. The two of them gave the group a reassuring smile.

Jason was double checking the folders against a list he had on a small tablet. "I think that's everybody, sir," he said.

"Good. Thank you, Jason," Webber said. "You can leave us now."

The HR employee smiled deferentially to Webber and Amelia, picked up the box of folders and walked out of the conference room.

"You know, I feel like I'm preparing for war," Amelia said.

"It's always a war when Catherine's involved," Webber said. "The right thing is to be prepared." He checked his watch. "Hey, I've got a meeting with the advertising and revenue people in five minutes. Do you want me to get one of the producers to walk you out?" He exited the conference room and started walking across the newsroom, followed closely by Amelia.

Amelia shook her head. "It's okay, Richard," she said. "I'll see myself out. You go ahead. Call me if there's any developments, all right?"

"Sure," Webber said. "Of course." He picked up the pace as he neared the elevators.

Amelia slowed down and examined the scene in front of her. Everyone was engaged in what she assumed was the daily bustle of the newsroom. Printers were spitting out page after page, phones were constantly ringing, and people were calling out to one another from their desks. Confident that no one was paying close attention to her, she made her way to one of the glass doored offices. She raised a fist and knocked three times.

* * *

"Come in!" Callie's attention did not stray from the TV screens on her wall until her office door was shut again. "How can I help -" Her jaw went slack when she saw that Amelia had entered her office. She found her voice again. "Amelia. How are you?"

Amelia nodded at the chair across from Callie. "You busy? Can I sit?"

"I was just checking on some of the other networks before the next rundown meeting, so not really busy. And uhm, sure, you can sit," Callie said. She shifted in her seat. "So, how have you been?"

"You already asked that," Amelia said. She leaned forward and cocked her head. Her lips twitched in a knowing smirk. "Is something wrong, Callie?" She gestured at the door. "Because I can come back later if you're, I dunno -"

"No, Millie," Callie blurted out. What  _was_ wrong? She and Amelia dated for a little less than a year when they were 24 years old. They weren't seriously involved; they broke up because they both agreed they were too busy studying for each other. They still saw each other around for the remainder of their time at Columbia, but never had a proper conversation since. The last she heard was that Amelia got hired by a firm in Baltimore after graduation. More recently, she was now a ruthless media lawyer. "Nothing's wrong," she finally admitted, both to herself, and to Amelia. It was just like Callie to assume the defensive position when Amelia posed no threat.

" _Millie_." Amelia chuckled. "No one's called me that in a very, very long time."

"I'm sorry," Callie said.

"No, don't be. I like it."

"I'm not sorry about that." Callie shook her head. "I'm sorry for acting weird. I don't know what's up with me. I hadn't seen you in so long. I didn't know what to say to you."

Amelia bit her lip. "Well, how about, 'Oh, hey Millie, how come I never figured out that you were Derek Shepherd's little sister?'" She laughed. "You guys have been working together for years, you know that he's born and bred in New York."

Callie found herself laughing, too. "I can't believe I didn't put it together!"

"Yeah, how many Shepherds do you know who are black-haired, blue-eyed, and impossibly good-looking?" Amelia asked. "Or that's just me. Derek is getting older and more rumpled every time I see him."

"You're very down-to-earth, too," Callie joked. "Millie Shepherd." She exhaled slowly. "Some things haven't changed." The Amelia that Callie knew wore slightly baggy cotton sweatshirts with jeans and sneakers every day, drank microbrew at get-togethers, and made ceremony of every act she considered to defy her East Coast WASP upbringing. Yet the Amelia sitting across from her was wearing a perfectly tailored navy blue suit and was every bit the polished old money professional her surname implied. But somehow, beyond appearances, nothing much was different.

"I want to catch up properly. At least, before I need to go back to LA," Amelia told her. "We should go out to dinner sometime this week."

"My work day runs very late," Callie said.

"I don't mind," Amelia said. "I heard some of the better restaurants don't bring the good stuff out until after the dinner rush."

"Oh," Callie folded her arms across her chest, "you want me to take you to a good restaurant? Any suggestions or hints you can offer me?"

"It's your city more than it's mine, Cal," Amelia said. "So, what do you say? Take me out to a good dinner? Please don't take me to anything with a wine menu and a white tablecloth. Those make me break out in hives."

An idea popped into Callie's mind. "I have just the place."

* * *

Arizona had finished confirming a fact check made by some of her junior researchers. She was walking back to the other end of the newsroom to clear a point with Bailey when through the glass door, she caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar person sitting in Callie's office. She did a double take. It was Amelia Shepherd.

But it wasn't the younger Shepherd's presence in Callie's office that held Arizona's attention. It was the way Callie was talking to her. Callie was smiling, gesticulating excitedly, and throwing her head back to laugh. She looked more relaxed with Amelia than she had ever been with Arizona.

Maybe that was why it was so hard to talk to Callie. It was easier to have a conversation when they weren't both so tense. Their plan to remove the tension was to become friends. But it was difficult to try to get to know each other again when all they can remember is how much they hurt each other.

It was a catch-22. Sighing, Arizona moved on to find Bailey, hoping to lose the rest of the hours in work.

* * *

Harper Avery Media's board of directors came to a decision after an hour and a half of deliberations. The board's secretary called for Webber and Catherine Avery, who were sitting on the chairs outside the boardroom, to come back in. Being at the behest of a higher authority was an unusual position for these two to be in. They paused to look at each other.

Catherine's lips were hinting at a smirk. "I just want you to know, Richard, whatever happens, there are no hard feelings," she said.

"Well, of course, Catherine," Webber started in a carefully measured voice, "I don't expect any less."

They followed the secretary back into the room. The board's chairperson looked up at them. "We apologise for taking so long. Thanks for waiting," she said.

"No problem," Webber said.

"That's all right," Catherine said at the same time.

"We've weighed up both of your arguments. After considering the key points of each side, we find no reason why Randall Howlett should not have airtime on HANCA," the chairperson told them. "I'm sorry, Richard. But you will have to break the news to some of your staff that they're going to have to consider moving to DC by February."

"I'm sure your judgement was sound," Webber said. "Thank you."

"Thank you for your time," Catherine said.

"It was our pleasure." The chairperson nodded. "I move to close the meeting."

"Oh, not quite," Webber said. "I mean, I object. Or whatever." He fished in his inside pocket for his phone, which earned him a few glares from the board members. "The production staff and the anchors have already signed their contracts for 2014." He swiped at the screen until he got to what he wanted. "I looked over their contracts. There are stipulations that say that in the event of changes in the job that would require major effort on the employee's part, they should be advised of the changes six months from when the contract takes effect."

"The new contracts aren't valid until January," Catherine said.

"Yes, but they're already signed. We don't want a contract dispute on our hands here."

Catherine appealed to the board members. "Surely you have the power to override this decision."

"But are these stipulations really in the contract, Catherine?" the chairperson asked.

"Yes. It's standard for all the contracts HR draws up," Catherine admitted. "Anchors have more negotiation power but obviously in this case, they've been advised to keep these conditions in."

"Well, if that's the case," a board member - Webber heard that he used to be in-house counsel for Harper Avery - spoke up, "then once the contracts are signed, it's legally binding. If their current contract has that clause in it, then you advise them now to move out in six months' time, in May. If you decided to advise them when the 2014 contracts are activated, then you advise them about the move in June. It's that simple. Richard's right. This is a contract dispute waiting to happen, so I advise you to keep everything above board so we can avoid that."

Catherine pursed her lips. "You're not even going to consider that these circumstances may have been created by some…  _strategic_ moves on Richard's part?"

"What?" Richard did his best to pull an innocent face. "What  _strategic moves_? It's contract renewal season. The HR department of the news division were just doing their job."

"Stop," the chairperson said curtly. "Whatever's going on here, the board will not engage in office politics with you. We'll treat those contracts as legally binding and we want both of you to follow them accordingly." She addressed Catherine. "You'll have to tell Mr Howlett that his on-air debut is going to be delayed, unfortunately." Certain that she had the last word, she continued, "Now, I move to close this meeting."

"Seconded," the former in-house counsel chimed in.

"All right, dismissed." The chairperson gathered her things and the other board members followed suit. They filed out of the room, leaving Webber and Catherine standing there, staring at each other.

"What kind of stunt are you trying to pull here, Richard?" Catherine asked.

"I'm buying time," Richard said. "I'll see to it that Randall Howlett won't see a minute of airtime under my watch."

"What's the big deal, man?" Catherine frowned. "I'm not planning to pull the eight and the nine off air. I just want to move them around so Howlett and his team will have access to sufficient resources to do their thing. There's no need to act so vindictive over this."

"I'm not being vindictive," Richard said. "What you're trying to do here isn't just going to result in some very talented people losing their job. If it was truly a cost issue, then I'd accept that it's out of my hands. But it's a matter of principle, Catherine. It's a matter of for whom this organisation is willing to bend itself backwards over. I have HANCA's best interests at heart, and Howlett is not one of them."

"Don't turn this into a war."

"Catherine, I wasn't the one who fired the first shot."

* * *

Every night, from after eight o'clock, Joe's filled up with people, mostly from HANCA, drinking beer and munching on pork rinds. Arizona usually avoided this post-office hours crowd, but relented because of Teddy's insistence. She sipped her beer while watching Teddy accept a cocktail from the bartender.

"Do you think that after a certain amount of years working as a journalist, you start to realise how unexciting this job can be a lot of the time?" Teddy asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we come into work, we report the news, and afterwards we just go on downstairs to this little bar and drink and eat. Lather, rinse, repeat," Teddy said. "I don't do it every night, but apparently some journalists do. Doesn't that mean that the job has gotten monotonous?"

"It's just routine, Teds," Arizona said. "Maybe you're just itching to get back in the field again."

"No way!" Teddy laughed. "I'm being ridiculous. I think I'm heading into a midlife crisis. I just feel so bored with my life right now, which is ridiculous, because it could be worse! I could be married to some bozo with little brats running around. I could be working  _daytime_."

"Monotony isn't all that bad," Arizona said. "You know, as long as you mix it up a little."

"Well, teach me your ways, then," Teddy challenged. "How do  _you_ mix your life up?"

Arizona shrugged. "Most nights after work I go straight home and turn on some mindless reality TV. Sometimes I browse on the internet, sometimes I drink beer, maybe I run myself a bath. On occasion I might even do all three. And then sometimes I go to the bar with a friend. That's about how exciting my life can get."

"I guess it's hard to top a Peabody," Teddy said slyly.

" _Hey_ ," Arizona said. "Plenty of stuff in my life has been more awesome than a Peabody."

"Oh, you're talking about being shortlisted for a Pulitzer, right?" Teddy asked. "By the way, Owen mentioned that when you first got here, and we had a good laugh about how much of a gunner you are. A TV journalist getting considered for pretty much the highest honour in print journalism. Of course only someone like you could pull that off."

"I'm not the first TV journalist who was in the running for a Pulitzer."

"Yeah, but I'm guessing you're the only one who continued working in TV and never did anything in print again," Teddy pointed out.

That was true. Arizona shrugged. "When I went to Berkeley, I did well in my TV units, but I was damn good at the print units. I wanted to be Laurie Garrett, but for politics," she said. "After J school I wanted to write for magazines, maybe publish a book. But everyone was telling me that print was dying, and TV was the place to go, and that's where I should be. So that's where I went."

Teddy stared at Arizona for a moment, before asking, "Whoa. Are you sure you're not the one going through a midlife crisis?"

"The midlife crisis is for men who want to blame their wife, children and mortgages for their sorry-ass lives, when they should be blaming society for making them feel obliged to get shuttered into a nine-to-five job for their next forty years in the workforce. They act out by doing rash things to try do over what can't be done over. I'm not rash, I'm content with where I am in my life," Arizona said. "Therefore, it doesn't apply to me."

"When you put it that way, it applies to every single man I know," Teddy said.

Arizona took a long drag from her beer bottle. "I'm not saying that the Peabody or the Pulitzer or those ten years at the BBC were for nothing," she said. "But I also can't help feeling like I went out and got those experiences because I felt like they were the experiences I  _meant_ to have, instead of the ones I actually want."

"I think midlife crises happen to men even more because they're less afraid to be rash than women," Teddy said. "If a woman isn't satisfied with her life she'd be more likely to suck it up than doing something about it. Although, if she does decide to do something about it, it would be much more calculated than anything a man would ever do."

"Oh, you mean she's not just gonna turn up one day with a new sports car?"

"Or start going to poetry classes in hopes of snagging a cute mistress?"

"I think  _that's_  something right up my alley," Arizona joked. But her mood had shifted. She finished her beer, waved for another one, and looked at Teddy with a newfound weight. "Lauren broke up with me." She hadn't told anyone before Teddy.

"Jesus,  _seriously_?" Teddy said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's over," Arizona said. She waved it off. "I'm fine, honestly."

"I thought you were really into each other," Teddy said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Arizona lied. A new bottle of beer was set in front of her, and she clasped it with one hand and sighed. "I guess I wasn't into her the way she wanted me to be into her." That was as close to the truth as she could get. She wasn't into Lauren the way she wanted to be into Lauren, and the other woman had picked up on that and let her go. Arizona tried as hard as she could. She couldn't feel the same thing twice.

* * *

One of the screens high above the bullpen showed footage of crowds of South Africans lined up outside the Union Buildings in Pretoria to pay their last respects to Nelson Mandela. "It still doesn't feel real," Alex told Arizona quietly. "I was in high school when he became president. 'The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.'"

Arizona looked at her protege. "Well, look at you, quote machine," she said. "But I know what you mean about Mandela. You think people like that are just gonna live forever, doing what they do."

"Yeah." Alex shook his head. He refocused on the work in front of them. "Are you sure it's a good idea to do this piece on 'revenge porn' before Christmas? I think we should move it for after the holidays."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Alex shrugged. "Some viewers may find it unpalatable?"

"What's unpalatable for sticks in the mud is incomparable to what probably is a disgusting betrayal of trust for the women who now have their naked pictures plastered all over the internet," Arizona said. "Besides, we air at nine o'clock in the evening, Alex. Hardly a family show. I'm sure grown ass adults can face some of the shitty things people their age do."

"Yeah, okay, I got it," Alex said.

"Good." Arizona didn't mean to sound so terse in her response, but one of the most valuable lessons that she learned on the job was stories deserve to be told no matter how ugly they get. She didn't believe in sugarcoating. That was the one thing she wanted her staff to take away from her leadership. "Wait a sec." Her eyes scanned the room. "Wilson!" she called out. "Jo!"

The younger AP turned in the direction of Arizona's voice. "Yeah?"

"How's that package on San Francisco's homeless coming along?"

"Good!" Jo grinned and gave her a thumbs up.

"Super, carry on," Arizona said. "She's a good worker, that Jo, isn't she?"

Alex snorted. "Yeah. 'Revenge porn' and homelessness, huh? What a merry Christmas."

"Oh, shut up, Alex," Arizona said. "The holidays aren't going to be great for everyone and we shouldn't pretend otherwise. If it makes you happy, I've got Cristina working on a fluff piece." She jerked her thumb behind her. A few yards away, Cristina and Leah were working at their computers. The deepest scowl was on Cristina's face.

"What kinda fluff?" Alex asked.

"Seven-minute package on the behind the scenes of the FAO Schwarz Christmas display," Arizona said. "And since it's in New York, she's done all the legwork, too." She suppressed a laugh at the mental image of Cristina walking into a room full of glitter and fake snow.

On the other hand, Alex let out a guffaw. "All right, that does make me feel better," he said. He stretched and yawned. "Hey, Arizona. Is it cool if I go grab a coffee from Scoop?"

Arizona glanced at the clock. It was five-thirty, and she could feel the slump setting in herself. "Sure," she said. "I'll come with you. I need to stretch my legs." She ducked into her office to get her coat and purse. She and Alex waited for the elevator. One stopped on their floor and the doors slid open.

"Oh! Hi there, Chief," Alex said. His placed his arm across the doorjamb to prevent the doors from closing.

The HANCA president stood in the elevator with Amelia Shepherd. "Alex," he acknowledged Alex with a nod. "Arizona."

"Chief," Arizona said brightly. "You just can't seem to stay away from our newsroom these days." She addressed Amelia: "And Ms Shepherd. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were considering a career change."

To her credit, Amelia chuckled amiably. "Please, call me Amelia. Are you guys heading down?"

"Yeah, to get some coffee," Arizona said.

"Actually," Webber said, "can that wait? We're here to talk to everyone. You two need to hear this." He gestured for Arizona and Alex to step back so he and Amelia could exit the elevator. "Let's go." He led the way down the corridor back to the bullpen. He called out for everyone's attention.

Arizona and Alex stood next to Bailey. "Do you know what's going on?" the senior producer asked.

"I've got a feeling," Arizona said. And it was a bad one.

"I apologise for interrupting your work," Webber spoke over them. "But there's some news that all of you need to know and I feel that it is my duty to tell you personally." He breathed deeply. "I know many of you have already renewed your contracts for next year. There will be a change coming in June.  _The Eight o'Clock Breakdown_ and  _America in Focus_ will be produced and broadcasted from DC."

An uneasy hush blanketed the room, accompanied by faces ranging from shock to puzzlement.

Webber continued, "This is because of resource reallocation done by the higher ups at Harper Avery Media. I know that this will mean some of you will have to transfer to another show or leave HANCA entirely, and that's a loss for us. However, for those of you who  _can_ move to DC, it'll be wonderful to have you work for the team there. For those of you don't think you can make it to DC but would like to try, please let our HR department know if they can help you in any way. We want to make the changes as smooth as possible for everybody." He clapped his hands together, not without hesitation, as if he didn't know what to do to defuse the tension in the bullpen. "Can Ms Shepherd and I spare a moment with the anchors and executive producers, please?"

"My office?" Derek suggested.

"That sounds good."

Arizona turned to Bailey. "We won't be long," she said. Work had been more hectic than usual, and she didn't know how the staff would stay productive after the announcement. She looked around at the slightly shaken expressions of the staff. While Arizona was able to pick up and move to DC, no problems, she was painfully aware that not everyone had the same luck.

"Yeah, yeah. You go on ahead." Bailey gestured towards Derek's door. "I can manage."

The last words Arizona heard before being out of earshot was Alex saying, " _Fuck_  that coffee, I need a beer or two."

* * *

The cab stopped by a building, the front of which needed a paint job. A small eatery was located on the lower floor. A short piece of awning stretched to cover a handful of chairs and tables arranged outside. It was already almost ten o'clock, but half the tables inside were still filled with young people eating sandwiches or drinking coffee.

Callie paid the cab driver. She and Amelia got out and stood on the sidewalk. "Well, here we are," she said.

Amelia began to laugh. She turned to Callie. "Ella Mae's? Seriously?  _This_  is your idea of a nice dinner?"

"Is that a problem?" Callie asked.

"No! It's fantastic!" Amelia said. "Damn, I missed this place. Nothing like it in LA. Not even close."

Ella Mae's was located on the stretch of West 116th St between the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism and the School of Law. It was a fairly new place when Callie, Amelia and their friends started eating there when they were at grad school, and Callie was pleased to see that it was still going strong. Ella Mae's served Southern food, with the native Louisiana Creole cuisine of its owners taking pride of place on the menu. Being cheap and hearty was its main attraction to students, though providing an alternative from the ubiquitous pizza and Chinese food places didn't hurt either.

They slid into a free corner booth and pored over the menu, which a clipboard hanging on a hook on the wall. A few minutes later, a waiter came by, notepad in hand. "You ladies ready to order?" he asked.

"I'll get a shrimp po' boy," Amelia said.

"And I'll get a fried catfish," Callie said.

"Curly fries and cornbread to share?" Amelia asked her.

"Definitely." They smiled at each other. It was their usual order from fourteen years ago.

The waiter jotted it down. "And for your drinks?"

"Sweet tea," they said in unison.

"Great! I'll have that over as soon as possible." The waiter disappeared into the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later they were digging into their meals. They may have looked out of place in their expensive clothing, but Callie watched the way Amelia picked up half of her po' boy and bit into it with absolutely no pretention. It was as if they were twenty-four again, not thirty-eight.

"So, Millie," Callie began, "how's LA? I never pegged you to run off to SoCal."

"I bet you never pegged me as a media lawyer either," Amelia said. "Meanwhile,  _I_ thought that you were going into print. But then again, your face and your voice on primetime TV is a gift to this nation."

"Ah, you really think that?"

Amelia smiled coyly. "Of course I do," she said.

"Truth be told, when I was at J school, everyone told us to go into TV, and not aim for a print career. I did print for a while afterwards, as a junior on the politics beat, but then HANCA had openings for a higher pay grade than I was going to be stuck with for a while, so I applied, got the job," Callie said. "Here I am now. You know what? I really fucking love TV news."

"Not just because of the good money?" Amelia smirked.

"Oh, get real! You and I both know we'll never have to like doing anything because of the money."

The lawyer nodded. "That is true. And to answer your question: LA is… I don't know Sometimes I sit down and try to think about the good things about LA that I can't have anywhere else, and I honestly struggle to find answers," she said. "But I stay anyway. Apparently, I'm now one of the country's foremost experts on legislation regulating paparazzo activities."

"Life's dream?" Callie joked.

"Most of my work revolves around censorship and knocking down the One Million Moms-type organisations, actually. But the way Hollywood and LA works, I've got to dabble in the paparazzo and tabloid journalism crap as well," Amelia explained. "If it wasn't for that, and if it wasn't for my husband -"

"Hold up," Callie cut her off. "You're  _married_?" Outside the hectic bubble that is the newsroom, Callie didn't have time to spend with other people who didn't share the same lifestyle as hers. The thought of marriage seemed almost foreign when she worked late into the night, and had to be available practically every hour of the day, should an important event happen.

"For eight years already, Cal. His name is Kenneth," Amelia replied. "He's lovely, super sweet and loving, but he's gone for months at a time. I think he'd only spend about half the year at our house. He calls it 'home base'. He wouldn't want to come home to anywhere else."

"What does he do?"

"He's a travel writer."

"Wait," Callie said, "Kenneth? As in, Kenneth Medina? I  _love_ his books, I keep all his magazine articles, and I check his blog just about every night to see if he's updated. Jesus Christ, you married  _him_?"

Amelia placed her elbows on the table, and rested her chin on top of her clasped fingers. "Cal, are you more surprised that I married a pretty famous travel writer or that I got married at all?" she asked.

"I don't know." Callie shrugged. "Both, I guess. I don't have much experience with marriage. Not a lot of people do, in the circles I run in. I mean, look at your brother. His marriage ended pretty disastrously."

"Kenneth's a wonderful man. When I'm not particularly busy I fly over to wherever he is for a couple of weeks. He's home on our birthdays, anniversary, Thanksgiving and the Christmas holidays without fail, too. I can't say it doesn't get lonely, but I'm happy that I married someone I love so much… aren't I glad I don't run in your circles?"

"Not until recently, you didn't. You're one of us now, Millie."

"It doesn't look like Catherine Avery and Randall Howlett are going to stop chasing you out of your newsroom, does it?" Amelia said.

"Well, you know, as long as Catherine Avery is involved, nothing stops," Callie said.

"I was thinking that I might have to stick around longer," Amelia said. "I don't want to keep flying back and forth between two cities because I lose so much time I could spend working up in the air. I'm considering reducing my caseload in LA and taking this on as my main priority, until the six months are up and the board of directors lays down the final decision."

"So, what, you're going to get a short-term lease here?"

"I know the property market is insane right now, but I'm sure I can find something suitable," Amelia said.

"And what about Kenneth?"

"He'd just have to consider Manhattan as home for a while," Amelia said. A dreamy smile grew on her face. "That's the reason he and I work so well. Kenneth writes all about these beautiful places, but he wholeheartedly lives by the fact that he's home wherever I am." She blinked rapidly and chuckled. "God, I hate to sound so cheesy…"

"No, no, I understand that sometimes you have to talk in clichés because it's the only way to describe something," Callie said. "Home is where the heart is, after all." She couldn't help snorting.

"Now,  _who's_  talking in clichés?"

"Honestly though. My heart…" Callie paused. The mirth had gone; an unfamiliar feeling gnawed at her insides. "My heart is in what I do. I wish I could be one of those people who can do it anywhere, no matter what. But the thing is, I can't be a journalist anywhere else but New York." She thought of when she left New York after J school: her short print career in Miami, and the years she spent in DC for HANCA, meeting and falling in love with Arizona. And then Arizona left. Returning to New York became her life's only inevitability. Everything in her life has circled back to coming here.

"I get it, Cal." Amelia nodded emphatically. "I really do."

An idea popped into Callie's mind. "I'll make you an offer," she said. "I have a spare bedroom in my apartment. You could live there rent-free. It's not far from the Harper Avery Media Tower, the building's got a residents-only gym and I've got this awesome espresso machine that I should be using more."

"Seriously?"

"The rest of my kitchen is pretty banging too, if I may say so."

"Callie, come on," Amelia said. "I can find a place."

"Millie, get real," Callie said. "The most you can find right now is a shoebox, and between you and me? You're not a shoebox kinda girl. Come on, I'll even make myself scarce if Kenneth comes over for  _discretionary activities_."

"Discretionary activities?" Amelia was incredulous.

Callie waved her off. "You know what I mean," she said. "It's rent-free," she repeated, when Amelia opened her mouth to voice an objection. "I want to do something for you, Millie."

The younger Shepherd pursed her lips, considering the offer. "And what do you want in return?"

"Keep us in New York. Keep us home." The request was simple, even though it really wasn't.

* * *

For someone who made a career on talking about what no one saw coming, Arizona was not spontaneous by nature. She wouldn't call herself excessively meticulous but she liked to fit her life along a loose routine. This applied to her work, too. Every night when the broadcast is wrapped, she'd debrief Derek, the control room staff and the APs -  _in that order_  - glance over the feedback they've gotten online, briefly check on the news alerts desk, and then finally gather her things from her office so she could head downstairs to catch a taxi home.

Tonight, Arizona hated that moment when she got into the cab and closed the door. Her after-work routine was over. She had nothing but her thoughts for the next fifteen minutes. Lately, they were the last thing she wanted to be alone with.

So, for once, she decided to be spontaneous.

"Ah, fuck it," she muttered. Instead of giving her address, she gave one much closer to the Harper Avery Media Tower. Callie's apartment. She willed herself to have no expectations. Things had to be said because they needed to be, not because she wanted it to trigger some kind of positive change. The truth held little power to fix anything, least of all the damage she'd done to Callie's heart. Arizona repeated these thoughts over and over.

Standing outside Callie's building, she remembered that she needed to be buzzed in. She contemplated waiting until a resident exited the building and sneak in that way, but it was already late at night for that to be likely. She didn't want to ask Callie to buzz her in because she didn't want to be rejected over intercom. Against her better judgement, she keyed in Mark's apartment number.

"Yup, who is it?" Mark's voice crackled.

"Mark, it's Arizona," she said. "Teddy forgot to give you something and I volunteered to drop it off."

"What?" Mark said. "I thought she gave me everything."

"Well, turns out that it wasn't all of it."

"Arizona." It was the way he said her name that she knew he saw right through her. "I'll buzz you in, but I think Callie has company. I heard a couple of voices when she got in. But they haven't been there long. Twenty minutes, tops."

"Oh." Arizona debated over whether she should stay.

"You still there?"

"Y-yeah." Arizona cleared her throat. "Yeah, I am. Thanks, Mark."

The speaker emitted a high pitched buzz which signalled that the unlocking of the door. Not wanting to be rude to Mark, who appeared to understand that she was here for an important reason, she walked inside as soon as the automatic doors whooshed open.

Arizona faced her reflection in the steel doors of the elevator. "Okay," she said slowly. "Here goes nothing."

Yet when she reached Callie's floor, she still had to fight the urge of pressing the button to go back to the lobby. Steeling herself a final time, she tiptoed out into the hallway - because what  _if_ Callie had  _company_ company? - and stood in front of her door to listen in. She could hear the conversation faintly through the door.

She knocked. Three heavy raps.

Steps approached the door. Lock and bolts clicked out of the way, accompanied by a cheerful voice. "One of the disadvantages of living here?" The knob turned. "Mark has to be the most intrusive," the door creaked open, "neighbour ev-" Callie turned away from the person in her living room, to come face to face with, "Arizona? How can I help you?"

"C-Callie," Arizona stammered. Heat rose to her cheeks. "You got company? I better go." She craned her neck to find out who was in Callie's living room. Amelia. She couldn't believe how much the woman had popping up in her life lately, and it wasn't just the parts related to the trouble at HANCA.

"Arizona, hey!" Amelia stood up to join Callie at the doorway, coffee mug in hand. "This a work call? It's so late at night. You guys work too hard!" She laughed, but it was obvious that she was aware of the palpable tension in the room. Amelia didn't know what was between them but, by the way they were acting, might as well have taken a good guess.

Arizona sighed. A random woman she could shoo away easily, but she knew she had to tread carefully with what she let on around Amelia. "Just needed to drop something off," she lied. "For work."

"Well, what is it?" Callie asked.

"Uh." Arizona reached for her satchel to see if there's a document she could give. "Hang on..."

"I was just about to go anyway. Maybe you can get Arizona some of that fantastic coffee you just made, Cal," Amelia said. She finished the rest of her drink and set the mug on the kitchen counter. She fetched her bag and shrugged on her coat. "Thanks so much for tonight," she told Callie. "We should do that again."

"Definitely," Callie said. "If you're not sick of me already, that is."

Amelia fastened her coat shut. "But who could ever get sick of you?"

"Get the kid at the front desk to call you a cab, all right?"

"I will. Thanks again. Good night," Amelia said. She looked at Arizona. "Good night, Arizona."

"You too," Arizona said.

Amelia sidled past her and was quickly on the elevator.

An anxious trembling gripped Arizona's body once she and Callie were alone. If she was nervous before, what she felt now was out of this world.

"So..." Callie said, appearing to not have noticed her slight change in demeanour. "Do you wanna come in, have a coffee?"

Nodding - because she didn't think that she had it in her to do much else - Arizona obliged. She watched Callie close the door behind them, and then faced her with those inquisitive dark brown eyes. Arizona swallowed.

_Here goes nothing_.


End file.
